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PETERSON'S AIVIERICAN WARS. 

A HISTORY 



07 THE 



WAES OE THE UNITED STATES. 



OONTAININQ 



A fflSTORY OF THE REVOLUTION, 



AND OP 



THE WARS OF 1812 AND MEXICO. 



WITH 



OF ALL THE PROMINENT 

AMERICAN MILITARY HEROES 

ENGAGED IN THOSE WARS. 
BY CHARLES J; PETERSON. ^ c 



ILLUSTRATED WITH SEVERAL HTJNDRED ENGRAVINGS. 



t 

PHILADELPHIA: 

I'lJBLISHED BY JAMES B. SMITH & CO., 

No. 27 SOUTH SEVENTH STREET. 



THE 



MILITARY HEEOES 



REYOLUTION: 



WITH A NABKATIVB Of THB 



WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 



By CHARLES J. PETERSON. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED BY JAMES B. SMITH & CO., 

No. 27 SOUTH SEVENTH STREET. 
1860. 







1 according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by 
J. k 3. L. GIHON, 
I CKerk's OfSce of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylrania. 



9 ; 



// 



TO THE 



I'SOFLE OF THE UNITED STA.TES. 



THIS WORK 



RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 



BY THE AUTHOR. 







PREFACE. 



The following work has long been a favorite scheme of the 
author. When the idea of it first occurred to him, there was 
scarcely any book of a similar character. Some of the biog- 
raphies were composed five or six years ago, and were given 
to the public as fugitive contributions ; others are of a later 
date; but nearly all were ready for the press a twelve-month 
since. Just as they arrived at this point, however, the an- 
nouncement of a publication somewhat resembling this, in- 
duced the abandonment of the enterprise, with the natural 
reflection, that in America at least, the delay recommended 
by Horace was not always advisable. Subsequently, how- 



6 PREFACE. 

ever, the writer was persuaded to prosecute his undertaking, 
and the result, with but little alteration, is before the reader ! 

It was the original intention to have given, in one volume, 
a complete gallery of the military heroes of the United States, 
those of the war of 1812, as well as those of the war of Inde- 
pendence. The war with Mexico, however, frustrated this 
design, it being found 4ihat the material would swell to two 
volumes. The " Heroes of the War of 1812," and the '' He- 
roes of the War vrith Mexico," will together complete a se- 
cond volume, which is now passing through the press. 

The design of this work is to furnish brief, analytical por-^ 
traits of those military leaders who, either from superior abi- 
lity, or superior good fortune, have played the most promi- 
nent parts in the wars of the United States. Each biography 
is made the frame, as it were, for a battle picture, the combat 
chosen being that in which the hero of the memoir principally 
distinguished himself This has always appeared to the author 
the only true way to give a military portrait. What would a 
sketch of Hannibal be, without Cannae ; or one of Bruce with- 
out Banno.ckburn ? The battle in which a great hero dis- 
tinguishes himself, becomes a part of his biography. His 
fame, and sometimes even his character cannot be understood 
without it. The author has desired, accordingly, to write a 
book which should not only tell when Warren was bom, 
where Putnam spent his youth, or who were the ancestors of 
Greene and Wayne, but to enshrine as far as his feeble pen 
has power, the memory of those immortal heroes with Lex- 
ington, Bunker Hill, Eutaw arrd Stony Point. 

In executing this plan, it became necessary to omit many 



PREFACE. 7 

whose rank would seem to claim admission, and to introduce 
others whose subordinate positions have caused them hereto- 
fore to be overlooked. Thus the author has given sketches of 
Colonel Henry Lee, of Captain Kirkwood, of Ethan Allen, and 
of others ; bnt none of several Major-Generals. He hesitated 
for some time, whether Howard and Pickens ought not to be 
included with Williams and Sumpter ; whether the services 
of Captain Washington in the cavalry, and those of Clarke on 
the western frontier, did not entitle them to a place. He has 
admitted, perhaps, more foreigners than some may think ne- 
cessary ; but it must be recollected that the army was indebted 
for most of its discipline and military science to these men. 
He has also included Hamilton and Burr; but they have 
never heretofore been assigned their due prominence; and 
moreover their biographies allowed the author to bring the 
history of the nation down to the present century, an import- 
ant addition to the completeness of his work as a whole. 

The author does not pretend to claim exemption from er- 
rors — no annalist can, least of ail an annalist of the American 
revolution ! Many of the details of that period are involved 
m inextricable confusion. Whether Mercer suggested the 
march on Princeton ; whether Putnam brought on the battle 
of Bunker Hill ; whether Montgomery harangued his men be- 
fore the second barrier of Quebec ; whether Arnold was pre- 
sent at Stillwater ; whether the legend of Horse-Neck is true ; 
whether the battle of the Assunpink, so unaccountably neglect- 
ed by most writers, was a mere skirmish or a desperate conflict ; 
whether any of the British, at Brandywine, crossed the river 
lower than Jeffries' Ford ; whether the name of Wood Creek, 



S PREFACE. 

in 1777, was extended to the arm of the lake between Skeen&- 
boro' and Ticonderoga ; whether the surprise at Trenton ori- 
ginated with Washington ; whether Burr intended to dismem- 
ber the Union — these, and other mooted points, perplex the 
historical student, and will, perhaps, always, continue to per- 
plex him. The author has contented himself merely with 
stating his opinions, discussion being foreign to the character 
of this work. As a general rule, however, he has applied to 
the decision of all such questions, the logical maxim of the 
law, that, where a fact is distinctly stated by a credible eye- 
witness, circumstantial testimony against it is of little value. 

Many anecdotes are used in this narrative which have 
never been in print. The one relating to Washington's ad- 
dress at Trenton — " Now or never, this is our last chance" 
— is of this description. It came from the lips of a private 
soldier, who always had told it in the same way, and whose 
veracity was unimpeachable ; he was accustomed to say that 
Washington spoke under evident agitation, and that only him- 
self, and a few others close at hand, heard the words. The 
dramatic character of the address may induce some to discre- 
dit it ; but when the attending circumstances are considered, 
this becomes a proof of its authenticity. Far be it from the 
author to invade history with fiction ! Nothing can be more 
reprehensible than the practice, which has too much prevailed, 
of inventing anecdotes in relation to historical characters and 
passing them off as realities. Forgers in literature should be 
as infamous as other forgers. But neither can we excuse 
those who studiously banish everything picturesque from their 
pages, as if history grew correct in proportion as it became 



PREFACE. 9 

stupid. Rather should we preserve those stirring anecdotes, 
which illustrate a crisis, and which, to use the metaphor of 
Coleridge, tell a story " by flashes of lightning." 

The narrative of the war is intended not so much for a 
perfect history, as for a short, but as far as possible, compre- 
hensive review of the contest. It forms, it is believed, a pro- 
per introduction for a work intended, like this, for the people. 
The style, in consequence, is different from that which a more 
pretending narrative should exhibit. 

Of the various authorities the author has consulted, he has 
found '' Sparks' American Biographies," the most generally 
correct ; and he desires to acknowledge, in this public man- 
ner, the assistance he has derived from that series. He would 
express his obligations in other quarters also, if the list would 
not swell this preface to an unwarrantable length. 





CONTENTS. 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

PRELIMINARY CHAPTER, 
BOOK I, . - 

EOOK n, - - - 

BOOK m, - - - 

BOOK IV, - . . 

BOOK V, - - - 



19 
25 
45 
73 
113 
Ul 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

Geor&£ Washikgtoit, - • • 

Joseph Wahbew, ... 
israex putkam, • • - 

Richard Moktgombbt, 

IjOiu) Stirliko, - " - 

Ethan Axlek, - - • 

WlUtlAM MoUtTBIS, - - - 



173 

207 
219 
235 
259 
243 
261 



11 



12 





CONTENTS. 






' 


Hugh Mxrcbb, • 








269 


Arthur St. Clair, 


• • 




- 


277 


Philip Schxiti.br, 








285 


JoHw Stark, 


• • 






295 


Horatio Gates, 








309 


Bekedict Arkfskii, 


- 






323 


jATffKS ClIBTTOW, . 








343 


JOHW SULIIYAIT, * 


- 






347 


Hekrt Knox, 








355 


Baron Steubbit, 


- 






359 


Charles Lee, 


■ •■ 1 






365 


Benjamin Lincolw, 


• ■ 






38S 


Anthont Watnb, - 








391 


Count Pulaski, » 


«■ • 






403 


Robert Kirkwoos, 




'. 




407 


Baron Db Kalb, 


• » 






409 


MARauis De LaTATBTTXi m 






< • 


413 


Nathanael Greens, 


- 






421 


Otho H. Williams, 








443 


Francis Marion, 


• B 






44f 


Thomas Sumptbb, ■ 








45* 


Henrt Lee, 


• • 






45-' 


Daniel Morgan, - 








461 


Thaddeus Kosciuszko, 


• "^ 






465 


Alexander HamiltoVi 








469 


Aaron Burb, 


m • 






477 




PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 



[HE American Revolutioiij in whatever aspect 
, viewed, forms an epoch in history. That a com- 
paratively weak confederacy should undertake a 
war unassisted, against a power which had just humbled the proud- 
est throne in Europe, appears at first sight little short of madness. 
Never, perhaps, did England enjoy a more formidable position than 
at the beginning of the dispute with her colonies. Her armies had 
been victorious in the old world and the new. Her fleets had 
chased those of every adversary from the ocean. She had dictated 
peace to her antagonist. And while these events had been transact- 
ing in Europe and America, a commercial company had been con* 
quering for her the vast empire of the Indies. Her flag already 
floating over Quebec, Gibraltar and Calcutta ; her name heard with 
terror by distant and savage tribes ; men began to look forward to 
the day when the British empire, like the sea which she controlled, 
should circle the habitable globe. 

It was at this, the very height of her career, that the American 
Revolution occurred. The colonies contained, at that time, but 
three millions of people, divided by local prejudices, by diflerences 

19 



20 HISTORY OP 

of religious opinion, and by mutual jealousies. In one sentiment 
only they agreed, a determination to resist oppression. Without 
arms, money or credit, they embarked in a contest from which 
France had just retired in despair. At a very early period of the 
war, the Americans were so completely overpowered that any other 
people would have abandoned the contest in despair. The battle 
of Trenton alone saved the country. The genius and resolution of 
Washington, in that eventful crisis, interposed to arrest the torrent 
of disaster ; he checked the flood and rolled it back on the foe. For 
eight years the conflict was protracted amid financial and military 
difficulties almost incredible. At times the Americans were reduced 
to such straits that it was a greater triumph of military chieftainship, 
merely to keep an army together, than it would have been, under 
ordinary circumstances, to have achieved a decisive victory. Battle 
after battle was lost, city upon city fell into the hands of the foe, 
domestic treason conspired with foreign hirelings against the liberties 
of the land ; but the colonies, true to the principles of their immortal 
declaration, resolved to perish rather than submit. They acted in 
the spirit of the patriot who swore to demolish every house and 
burn every blade of grass before the invader. The Senate of Rome, 
vv^hen Hannibal was at the city gates, solemnly sold at auction the 
land on which he was encamped, the august members of that body 
competing, in their private capacities, who should pay the highest 
price : so indomitable was the sentiment of ancient freedom. Wash- 
ington, not less determined, when asked what he would do if the 
enemy drove him from Pennsylvania, replied, " I will retire to 
Augusta county, among the mountains of Virginia, or if necessary 
beyond the Alleghanies, but never yield." When such heroic reso- 
lutions are entertained, victory, sooner or later, must ensue : and 
thus America, insignificant as she seemed, was able to humble the 
mistress of the world. 

But if we would correctly appreciate the American Revolution, 
we must look, not to the event itself, but to its consequences. The 
war of Independence was the first ever gained in behalf of the 
people, using that word as contradistinguished from a privileged 
class. ■ Magna Charta was obtained for the benefit of a few nobles, 
while the majority of the population continued slaves to the soil. 
The boasted revolution of 1688, was but a struggle between a despot 
and an oligarchy : the commonalty gaining as little by the elevation 
of William the Third, as they lost by the exile of James the Second. 
It was only the nobility, the gentry, the church, and the highei 
classes of merchants to whom it was of advantage. The goveri> 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 21 

ment passed from an irresponsible monarch to a landed and monied 
aristocracy : the people obtaining no share in it, and remaining still 
subjects and not citizens. But the American Revolution established 
the great principle of political equality. It elevated the poorest 
member of the commonwealth to an equal participation with the 
richest in the choice of his rulers ; and by teaching that the State 
must rely on the virtue of its citizens, and not on a military force 
for support, invoked some of the most pov\rerful sentiments of humaii 
nature in behalf of the permanency of the republic. 

The example thus set, has influenced the whole European conti- 
nent. The knowledge of the freedom of institutions in America, 
awakening the lethargic mind of the old world, has led to a general 
amelioration in the social and political condition of its millions of 
inhabitants. To the American Revolution may be traced, in a great 
measure, the revolution in France, — an incalculable blessing to man- 
kind, notwithstanding its excesses ; for if that terrific outbreak had 
not occm'red, the chains of feudalism would probably remain un- 
broken ; long established customs would still hold the minds of men 
in thrall ; and Europe, instead of being in motion towards constitu- 
tional liberty, would lie inert and stupified, careless or ignorant of 
her inestimable rights. 

• The hand of Providence may be discerned in the settlement, inde- 
pendence, and subsequent prosperity of the United States. The 
race of men who came to these shores was of that northern blood 
which has, in all ages, asserted its superiority over every other with 
which it has come in contact. Perhaps there never existed its equal 
in the capacity for material development. The very name of North- 
man suggests the idea of enterprise and "progress. In a new country 
the genius of the race had free room for expansion, without being 
checked by old institutions as it was every where in Europe. A bold 
and hardy people was the consequence, possessing high notions of 
personal independence, and accustomed from the'very first to choose 
their own ]:ulers and make their own laws. Had a less energetic 
stock colonized these shores, the destiny of the western world would 
have been far different. No other people but one formed and 
nurtured as the early settlers were, could have achieved the inde- 
pendence of this country. Fortunately the materials for the state 
were of the best possible kind, nor was any parent community a1 
hand to wither the young commonwealth by its protecting shadow ; 
but the colonies were suffered to grow into power, and to know 
their own strength, before the mother comitry interfered to harass 
them ; and by that time they w ere able to conquer their indepen- 



22 HISTORY OP 

dence. and to maintain it afterwards. If instead of being threo. 
thousand miles away, the yomig repubhc had started upon European 
soil, it never would have been allowed to try the experiment of self- 
government unmolested ; bat foreign powers, alarmed at the effect 
its example might produce, would early have interfered and crushed 
its development. In that case our liberties could only have been 
achieved by the blood and horror of a second French Revolution ; 
and after we had filled Europe with the glare of conflagration, we 
might at last have proved unworthy of freedom. 

It is evident to the eye of the philosopher that the old world is 
worn out. There are cycles in empires, as well as in dynasties ; 
and Europe, after nearly two thousand years, seems to have fin 
ished another term of civilization. The most polished nation in the 
eastern hemisphere is now where the Roman Empire was just 
before it verged to a decline : the same system of government, the 
same extremes of wealth and poverty, the same delusive prosperity 
characterizing both. Europe stands on the crust of a decayed vol- 
cano which at any time may fall in. The social fabric, in the old 
world, is in its dotage. The whole tendency of the philosophic mind 
abroad, is towards change ; but whence to seek relief, or in what 
manner to invoke it ? It is not too visionary to believe that from 
the new world will come the recuperative energy which is to restore 
the old, and that America is hereafter to return to Europe, in an 
improved condition, the civilization she borrowed in her youth. 
The one starts where the other leaves off. The United States begins 
with an experience of two thousand years. At the same ratio of 
progress with which it has advanced during the last century, it will 
attain, by the close of the next, a social and political elevation, at 
present incredible. Its population, exceeding that of any Empire 
but China, will all speak the same language, possess the same laws, 
and boast the same blood ; and history will be searched in vain for 
an example of such numbers collected into so compact a territory, 
or possessing equal intelligence and enterprize. It is then that 
emissaries will go hence to re-model the old world. And the time 
may even come, as a celebrated EngUsh writer has remarked, when 
Europe will be chiefly known and remembered from her connexions 
with America : when travellers will visit England, as men now visit 
Italy, because once the seat of art ; and when antiquaries from cities 
beyoud the Rocky Mountains, will wander among the ruins of Lon 
don, almost incredulous that there had once been centred the com- 
merce of the world. 

With the Roman Empire the seeds of disunion existed in tne 



THE WAR or INDEPENDENCE. 23 

variety of races acknowledging her sway, and in the fact that most 
of the provinces had originally been conquered nations and were 
never completely assimilated to her, or to each other. When the 
irruptions of the Goths occurred, this unwieldy and ill-cemented 
mass naturally fell to pieces. Even during the existence of the em- 
pire the government of the distant colonies was. more or less imper- 
fect, as is indeed always the case with the provinces of an 
extensive monarchy or despotism. The body thrives while the 
extremities wither. But in the republic of the United States, 
these diiRculties are obviated by the federal compact, which 
bestows on the general government only such power as the states 
cannot conveniently use themselves, leaving to each common- 
wealth the right of local legislation. The nation is governed 
on the wise principle of representing the wishes of the people as a 
whole ; while each individual state is left to adjust its ov/n affairs 
in the manner best suited to itself. For the purposes of a free peo- 
ple occupying an extended territory the federal league is the most 
wonderful discovery in the whole range of political science. It 
combines the separate independence of the municipal system of 
Rome, with the compactness of a consolidated monarchy such as 
th^t of France. Like the magic tent in the fairy tale, it may shelter 
a family, or cover a continent. It moreover carries within itself the 
seeds of recuperation, and may be peaceably amended to suit the 
altered condition of the times. It is the only form of government 
for an extensive republic that can be relied on as permanent. A 
cursory observer would suppose, that on the slightest difference of 
opinion among the States, they would separate into as many hostile 
and independent nations : but experience has shown, as philosophy 
prognosticated, that the federal league weathers tempests that wreck 
even constitutional monarchies. It is the most pUable of all the 
forms of human government. Like those vast Druidical stones that 
are still the admiration of the world, though their builders are for- 
gotten, it is so nicely poised that while rocking under the fmger of 
a child, it yet defies human power to hurl it to the ground. 

The story of the Revolution, pregnant with such mighty con- 
sequences, and the lives and characters of the great men who 
began and successfully completed it against such overwhelm- 
ing odds, cannot fail to be interesting, especially to the descend- 
ants of those who shed their blood in that quarrel. It is ouj 
purpose to narrate this theme : and Ave shall do it without further 
preface. 




AMERICANS HARASSING THE BRITISH ON THEIR RETREAT FROM CONCORD. 



BOOK I 



THE ORIGIN OF THE WAR. 




HE American Revolution natu- 
rally divides itself into five peri- 
ods. The first dates from the 
passage of the Stamp Act to the 
battle of Lexington. This Avas 
a period of popular excitement, 
increasing in an accelerated ratio, 
until it burst forth with almost 
irresistable fury at Lexington and 
Bunker Hill. The second reaches to the battle of Trenton. During 
this period the popular enthusiasm died away, and recruits were 
difficult to be obtained for the army : consequently the American 
forces were made up chiefly of ill-disciplined militia, wholly incapa- 
ble of opposing the splendid troops of England. As a result of this, 
the battle of Long Island was lost, and Washington was driven 
across the Delaware. In this emergency, even the most sanguine 
of the patriots were beginning to despair, when the commander in 
chief made his memorable attack ai Trenton, and rescued the 
country from the brink of ruin. The third period brings us up to 
the important alliance with France, It was during this period that 
4 c 25 



86 HISTORY OF 

a regular army, having some pretentions to discipline, was first 
formed ; that the battles of Brandywine, Germantown and Mon- 
mouth- were fought; and that Burgoyne surrendered. It was a 
period when, notwithstanding the fortunes of the country occasion- 
ally ebbed, the cause of Independence on the whole steadily advanced. 
The fourth period embraces the war at the south. During this 
period the military operations of the British at the north were com- 
paratively neglected ; indeed England now began to regard the con- 
quest of the whole country as impossible, and therefore resolved to 
concentrate all her energies on one part, in hopes to subdue it at 
least. The fifth and last period, which had nearly proved fatal, 
after all, to Independence, comprises the capture of Cornwallis; 
witnesses the deliverance of the nation from a financial crisis ; and 
finally beholds Independence acknowledged, and the enemy's troops 
withdrawn from our shores. To each of these periods we shall 
devote a book : the first we shall now portray. 

There can be no question but that the colonies would eventually 
have detached themselves from the mother country, even if the 
severance had not occurred at the period of which we write. While 
the provinces were young and feeble, they naturally looked to the 
parent state for countenance ; but Avhen they grew to manhood, the 
sentiment of Independence and the consciousness of importance 
sprang up together in their bosoms. In everything the colonies 
found themselves pinched and controlled by the supremacy ot 
England. They were not allowed to trade where or when they 
pleased : they were compelled to pay a certain portion of the 
product of their mines to the king : and in many other ways they 
were made continually to feel that their existence was permitted, 
not so much for their own benefit, as for that of the parent state. 
Originally seeking a refuge in the new world because of religious 
and political tyranny at home, their independent spirit had increased, 
rather than diminished : and this naturally, in consequence of the 
agricultural life they led, and the democratic character of their 
colonial governments. There were, long before the Revolution, a 
few observing intellects Avho prognosticated, in consequence of these 
things, an ultimate disruption between America and England. The 
Swedish traveller, Kolm, twenty years before the contest, has re 
corded the prophecies of such minds. But the great body of the 
people, not yet pressed on directly by the aggressions of the mother 
country, were insensible of wrong. 

A wise government would have temporized with the colonies 
and endeavored to avert as long as possible the breach which it 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 27 

saw to be inevitable ; but England, at the period of the Revolution, 
was ruled by a ministry Avhich either could not or would not under- 
stand America. In an evil hour for Great Britain it was resolved 
to draw a revenue from the colonies by direct taxation. In vain 
Burke lifted his warning voice. "The fierce spirit of liberty/' he 
said, "is stronger in the English colonies probably than with any other 
people of the earth.'' In vain a few discerning minds in England 
pointed to the examples of Pitt and Walpole, former prime-ministers, 
both of whom had refused to tax America. Said the latter shrewdly, 
"I will leave that measure to some one of my successors who has 
more courage than I have." The Grenville ministry, brave with 
the audacity of ignorant folly, resolved to undertake what others 
had shrunk from, and draw a revenue from America, not only 
incidentally as of old, but directly by a certain fixed tax. 

As a preliminary measure, however, two acts were passed, having 
reference to the trade and finances of the provinces. The first of 
these imposed heavy duties on indigo, cofi"ee, silk, and many other 
articles, imported into the colonies from the West Indies, besides 
requiring the customs to be paid in gold or silver : by this act a 
very lucrative branch of commerce was at once destroyed. The 
second declared the paper money, which had been issued by the 
provinces to defray the expences of the war just closed, not a legal 
tender in the payment of debts. Each of these laws was equally 
irritating. But had the ministry stopped here, no immediate 
opposition would have been aroused ; for the colonies had been too 
long accustomed to old commercial restrictions to take offence at 
new ones. But these measures proving insuificient to raise the 
revenue which the ministers desired to reap from America — a direct 
tax was resolved upon, and the Stamp Act accordingly brought 
forward. 

It has often been a subject of surprise that Great Britain should 
ever have entertained the idea of taxing America without her 
consent, or should have persisted in it after discovering her oppo- 
sition. But, when we consider the attending circumstances, all 
astonishment ceases. England had just come out of an expensive 
war, which though in reality produced by her own aggressions on 
this continent, she persuaded herself was undertaken for the defence 
of her colonies ; and therefore it seemed but natural that the pro < 
vinces should be made to pay a part of the cost. This was un 
questionably the first view taken of the subject by the majority of 
the middle class of Englishmen. As the dispute advanced, this 
selfish desire to lighten their own burdens, received a new ally in 



28 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

the national obstinacy which would not brook opposition. Up to a 
comparatively late period of the war, these causes, combined with a 
feehng of contempt for America, as a province, produced a very 
extraordinary unity of sentiment among the country gentlemen in 
parliament, and the middle classes out of it, in favor of England 
persisting in her claim. 

In further confirmation of this view, is the fact that, from the 
hour when the dispute first began, up to the breaking out of the 
Revolution, the parliament, whether in the hands of a tory or whig 
ministry, never abandoned the assertion of its right to tax America. 
In 1766, when the Rockingham administration desired to repeal the 
Stamp Act, it was found necessary to preface it by a declaratory 
act, asserting the right of the mother country to bind the colonies in 
all cases whatever. In 1770, when Lord North brought in his 
bill to remove the obnoxious duties, he retained the duty on tea, 
expressly to reserve the right of parliamentary taxation. It is a 
lamentable truth, y et one to which the historian must not shut his eyes, 
that with the exception of a portion of the whigs, of the merchants 
engaged in the American trade, and of a few comprehensive minds 
hke those of Burke and Chatham, the great body even of intelligent 
Englishmen, regarded the provinces as factious colonies, and 
sustained, if they did not urge on the government in its domineering 
course. Moreover, the King, from first to last, was the uncompro- 
mising foe of conciliation. When these facts are understood, the 
riddle becomes plain. The coldness with which parliament and the 
people received the various appeals of the American Congress, prior 
to the Avar, is no longer a mystery ; the headlong obstinacy of the 
mother country ceases to astonish, for men are never so guilty of 
folhes as when angry: and the inefficiency of subsequent conces- 
sions, which the Americans have been blamed for not receiving in 
a more generous spirit, becomes apparent, since never, during the 
whole progress of those conciliatory movements, did England aban- 
don the disputed claim. While the irritating cause is left in the 
wound, palliatives are but a mockery. 

The Stamp Act became a law on the 22d of March, 1765. Its 
direct eff'ect was only the imposition of stamp duties on certain 
papers and documents used in the colonies. As it however em- 
bodied a great principle, of which itself was but the entering wedge, 
the provinces took the alarm the more readily, perhaps, inconsequence 
ot the prevailing irritation in reference to the navigation laws, and 
the rigor with which they had begun to be enforced. At first, 
however, there was no public expression of discontent. The country 



THE STAMP ACT. 



89 




PATRICK HEiratT. 



seemed to stand at gaze, struck dumb with astonishment. Patrick 
Henry, in the Virginia Assembly, led the way in giving voice to 
the popular feeling. He introduced into, and passed through that 
body a series of resolutions declaratory of the right of Virginia to 
be exempt from taxation, except by a vote of the provincial legis- 
lature, with the assent of his majesty or substitute : a right which 
the citizens of Virginia, the resolutions further asserted, inherited 
from their English ancestors, and had frequent])^ had guaranteed to 
them by the King and people of Great Britain : a right, to attempt 
the destruction of which, would be subversive of the constitution, 
and of British and American freedom. It was, while advocating 
these resolutions, that the memorable scene occurred which Wirt 
graphically portrays. The orator was in the full torrent of decla- 
mation against the tyrannical act, when he exclaimed, " Caesar had 
his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and George the Third'' — 
But here he was interrupted by loud cries of "treason, treason,'' 
resounding through the house. Henry paused, drew himseJf up lo 
liis loftiest height, and fixing his undaunted eye on the speaker, 

c* 



^0 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

elevated his voice while he finished the sentence, "and George tne 
Third may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the 
most of it." The boldness of the man, and of his words, were 
electric; not only on the Assembly, but on the people at large. The 
retort hit the popular nerve, and thrilling through the nation, 
quickened the pulse and fired the heart of patriotism. It was like 
the spark of fire to the dry prairie : instantaneously the whole 
country was in a blaze. 

Massachusetts was the next colony to give an impetus to the; 
career of Revolution. The other provincial Assemblies had passed 
acts similar to that of Virginia ; but shrewd men saw that it required 
something more to produce a permanent efi'ect. As early as 1754, 
the plan of a general league, to carry on the ordinary government 
of the colonies, had been rejected by the ministry, after having been 
adopted by the provinces. A similar league suggested itself now as 
of use in this emergency. Simultaneously, the idea of a Congress 
of the colonies struck different minds in opposite sections of "America. 
It was reserved for Massachusetts, however, to give this sentiment 
a voice. On the 6th of June, 1765, her legislature resolved it was 
expedient that a general Congress of deputies from all the provinces 
should meet at New York on the first Tuesday of October, to consult 
on their grievances. 

In the meantime the first riot of the Revolution occurred, and at 
Boston, from that time forth the head-quarters of turbulence and 
disaffection. Distributors of stamps had already been appointed for 
the several colonies, though the Stamp Act was not to go in opera- 
tion until the 1st of November. On the morning of the 14th of 
August, an effigy of Andrew Oliver, the distributor of stamps for 
Massachusetts, was discovered hanging from a tree on the town 
common, since known as the " liberty tree." At night a large mob 
assembled, which burned the effigy, and afterwards attacked the 
stamp office and residence of Oliver. The next day this obnoxious 
individual resigned. The popular leaders now strove to check 
further violence : but the mob was not satisfied until it had com- 
mitted other disgraceful outrages. Before the excitement subsided, 
the papers of the court of admiralty had been destroyed, the dwell- 
ings of the collectors of customs had been razed to the ground, and 
the beautiful garden, the richly furnished mansion, and the valuable 
library of state papers belonging to the lieutenant governor. Hutch 
inson, had been sacrificed to the popular phrensy. In the othei 
colonies the distributors of stamps averted a similar tumult by 
resigning. 



THE STAMP ACT. 31 

In October, 1765, the Congress assembled pursuant to recom- 
mendation. Deputies from nine colonies were in attendance. The 
attitude of the assembly was firm but conciliatory, A petition to 
the King, and a memorial to parliament, were prepared and signed 
by all the members present. In these documents the affection of 
the provinces to the person of the King as well as to his government 
was enlarged on ; but at the same time the determination of the 
colonies to preserve their liberty was explicitly expressed. It was 
declared that the constitution guaranteed to British subjects im- 
munity from taxation, unless by their own representatives ; while it 
was argued that the remote situation of the colonies practically 
forbade this representation, unless in their own provincial assem- 
blies. In conclusion a prayer was made for the redress of their 
wrongs. This petition and memorial had no effect, for the reasons 
we have before explained. The only benefit of the Congress was the 
bringing together leadnig men from the different colonies, by which 
a certain sort of imity of purpose was obtained, and a way opened 
for future assemblies of the kind. In the end, it led to a closer 
acquaintance between the provinces, gradually removing the local 
prejudices that had formerly prevailed; and this, ultimately, to that 
feeling of a common interest almost amounting to nationality, with- 
out which the war of Independence would have failed in its first 
year. Thus, from comparatively small beginnings, does Providence 
work out his great designs. 

The 1st of November, the day on which the Stamp Act was to 
go into effect, at last arrived. The colonists had meantime resolved 
not to wear English goods until the illegal law was repealed. On 
this occasion, therefore, the citizens were all in homespun, rich and 
poor alike. At Boston the bells were tolled and the shops closed. 
At Portsmouth, N. H., a coffin inscribed " Liberty, setat cxlv years," 
was borne in funeral procession, interred to the sound of minute 
guns, and an oration pronounced over its grave. Everywhere the 
people acted as if some great calamity had happened : men spoke 
of freedom as if she had forever departed from their midst. Mean- 
time the Stamp Act became practically nugatory. The citizens 
refused to use the stamped paper. The regularly appointed officers 
declined the obnoxious duty. The attorneys determined to employ 
ordinary paper, as of old, in legal documents, in defiance of the law. 
Vessels were cleared without the stamped papers, no collector being 
wilUng to brave the popular odium. Even the royal governors had 
.0 bend to the storm and grant dispensations 



S3 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 



In the midst of the general depression and gloom came a sudden 
gleam of hope. The Grenville administrati:Dn went out of office, 
and was succeeded by that of the Marquis of Rockingham. The' 
new ministry was composed chiefly of whigs. One of its first acts 
was to agitate the repeal of the obnoxious law. Dr. Franklin, at that 
time in London, was called before the bar of the House of Com- 
mons, in order to be interrogated respecting the opinions of his 
countrymen and the condition of the colonies. His clear and in- 
telligent answers, united to the moderation of his sentiments, pro- 
duced a great effect on the public mind. After the passage of the 
declaratory act to which we have before alluded, the Stamp Act 
itself was repealed, March -the 15th, 1766. The intelligence was 




RECEPTION OF NEWS OF THE REPEAL OF THE STAMP ACT. 



r.eceived in America with transports of joy. At first the repeal was 
accepted as a boon, instead of being received as a right. All hostile 
thoughts were immediately laid aside : importations were renewed, 
homespun was discarded. But this extravagant joy was of short 
duration. As soon as the first burst of enthusiasm was over, and 
men began to comprehend more exactly the true condition of things, 
it was found that England still asserted her obnoxious claim, though 
for the time being she waived its exercise. This alarming fact dis- 
turbed the public mind with fears for the future. The tone of the 
royal governors, who acted an instructions from the ministry at 
home, was, moreover, supercilious and domineering to the last 
degree. 

In the short space of a year the worst suspicions of the colonists 
were verified. The Rockingham administration was overthrown, 
and succeeded by one in which Charles Townshend was con- 
s])icuous. That gentleman revived the idea of taxing America. 
Accordingly, in June, 1767, a bill was signed by the King, imposing 



rilE NEW TAX BILL. 33 

duties on glass, tea, paper and colors imported into the colonies 
This bill was thought to be such a one as the provinces could not 
complain of, since they had heretofore made a distinction between 
external and internal taxes : and the probability is, that, if such a 
bill had been originally passed in place of the Stamp Act, it would 
have received little or no opposition. But times had changed. The 
colonies had been taught to distrust the parent state ; they had 
learned to examine into their own rights. The spirit of resistance 
which at first had flowed in a feeble and insignificant current, began 
to widen and deepen with new sources of complaint, until, finally, 
even greater concessions than it had originally asked, proving in- 
sufficient to restrain it — it rolled on, bearing down all opposition, 
and involving everything in its overwhelming torrent. 

The new tax bill was received in Massachusetts with peculiar 
disfavor. The legislature addressed a circular letter to the other 
colonies, requesting their aid in obtaining a redress of grievances, 
This gave great oifence to the English ministry, which sent out 
immediately a circular letter to the royal governors, in which the 
Massachusetts letter was denounced as factious. The governor of 
Massachusetts was ordered to require the Assembly to repeal the 
resolution on which the obnoxious epistle had been founded. On 
receiving a refusal he dissolved the Assembly. In the other pro- 
vinces the ministerial letter was treated with equal disregard. 

Meantime other causes of irritation were arising. The ministry 
had long desired to make the colonists support the royal troops 
quartered among them, which the colonists had continually refused. 
Before the dissolution of the Massachusetts Assembly, it had main- 
tained a triumphant altercation with the governor on this point. In 
New York, however, the ministry was more successful. In addition 
to their difficulties about the soldiery, came others in relation to the 
execution of the laws of trade. It had been usual to evade these 
laws very generally, but the commissioners now determined to ex- 
ercise the utmost rigor ; and in consequence, a riot arose at Boston 
in reference to the sloop Liberty, OAvned by John Hancock, which 
nad just arrived from Madeira with a cargo of wines. The com- 
missioners in the end, had to fly the town. In the very midsi of 
these disorders several transports appeared with troops, and as the 
selectmen refused to provide for them, they Avere quartered hi 
Fanueil Hall. More troops kept arriving, until, by the close of the 
year, the force in Boston amounted to four thousand men. 

The attitude assumed by Massachusetts Avas particularly exaspe • 
rating to the ministry. Charles Townsnend was noAV dead, and 
5 



34 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 




FANTJEIL HALL. 



nad been succeeded by Lord North, who contmued to the end 0/ 
the war, with but a slight intermission, to be prime minister. But 
the pohcy of England was not altered. In retaliation for what was 
called the factious spirit of Massachusetts a petition to the King 
was passed, beseeching him, and in etfect authorizing the colonial 
governor to arrest and send to England for trial all persons suspected 
of treason. So glaring an outrage on the rights of the colonists was 
received in America with one general cry of indignation. For its 
boldness in denouncing this outrage, the Assembly of Virginia was 
dissolved by the royal governor, Lord Botetourt. But, nothing 
intimidated, the members met immediately, and recommended t.» 
their fellow citizens, again, the non-importation of British goods 
Most of the other colonies imitated this example. The popular 
sentiment warmly seconded the movement : committees were ap- 
pointed to enforce compliance ; and the names of offenders were 
published in the newspapers and held up to public scorn as enemies 
of the country. 



RIOT AT BOSTON. 35 

In the meantime, the people of Massachusetts finding their general 
«ourt dissolved, boldly elected members to a convention ; the dif- 
ferent towns choosing the delegates. This act was a virtual declara- 
tion of mdependence. The convention, however, did little beyond 
petition the governor for a redress of grievances, and recommend 
endurance, patience and good order to the people. In May, 1768, 
a new general court met, when the old difficulties about the troops 
were revived. The court began by refusing to sit while Boston 
was occupied by an armed force. The governor then adjourned 
the sittings of the body to Cambridge. The court next remonstrated 
against the quartering of soldiers in the capital. The governor, in 
return, sent it an account of the expenditures for the support of the 
troops, and demanded that the sum should be paid, and a provision 
made for the future. The court refused to comply, and on this the 
governor prorogued it. 

The presence of the troops in Boston was naturally irritating to 
the inhabitants. A free people cannot brook an armed force. Fre- 
quent quarrels occurred between the townsfolk and the soldiery, but 
no serious difficulty arose until the fifth of March, 1770. On that 
day, however, an affray, in part premeditated on the side of the 
people, took place, in which the troops, as a means of self-preserva- 
tion, finally fired on the mob. Three men were killed, and several 
womided, one of whom subsequently died. This affair has ever 
since gone by the name of the massacre. A colhsion was, perhaps 
inevitable, considering that the very presence of the soldiers was ar 
outrage ; but that the troops were not wholly to blame is proven b] 
the fact that a Boston jury acquitted the captain who gave the ordei 
to fire, and that Josiah Quincy and John Adams, both populai 
leaders, felt it their duty to join in his defence. In all such cases 
the guilt ought to rest on the government which commands, and not 
on the officer who executes ; yet great honor is due the jury, since, 
perhaps, in no other community, vmder equally exciting circum- 
stances, could a similar verdict have been obtained. 

Events now begaji to follow each other in rapid succession. The 
spirit of resistance was visibly on the increase. The ministry at last 
grew alarmed, and determined to try conciliatory measures. Accord- 
ingly, the duties on glass, paper and colors were repealed ; but the duty 
on tea, for the reasons we have stated, was left unaltered. This was a 
fatal blunder. Its effect was to neutralize all the rest that had been 
done. Nothing short of a total abandonment of the right of parlia 
mentary taxation would now have satisfied the colanies; and if 
England really wished to settle the dispute, she ought to have 



36 I'HE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

yielded this claim at once and forever. But, like a miser Iroiii 
whom a part of his store is demanded in commutation, she haggled, 
for a price, her concessions always falling short of what was desired, 
imtil finally, by her greediness, she lost all. 

The southern provinces, however, were less firm than Massachu- 
setts. In this latter colony the non-importation agreement continued 
to be observed in all its vigor; but elsewhere an exception was 
made in favor of those articles exempted by the new bill. The 
enthusiasm of many persons had already sensibly declined under the 
restrictions to which they had subjected themselves, and they weie 
not sorry, therefore, to find an excuse for returning to the old and 
more comfortable order of things. Had the ministry, at this juncture, 
repealed the tax on tea, and assumed even the appearance of con 
ciliation, there can be no doubt but that the majority of the colonists 
would have become perfectly loyal once more : a blind fate, however, 
an inexplicable perversity, hurried Lord North forward, and, by re 
solving to force on the provinces the obnoxious tea, he broke the 
last Imk existing between the two countries. 

Another of those fatal misapprehensions, however, of which the 
British ministry appear to have been the victims throughout these 
difficulties, was at the bottom of this new movement. Lord North 
had been made to believe that the colonies objected to the tax itself 
rather than to the principle involved in it : in other words, that they 
feared more for their pockets than for the invasion of their rights. 
Consequently he resolved to furnish them with tea cheaper than 
they had been able to purchase it before the existence of the tax, 
and this he effected by allowing the East India company to export 
it duty free. But the colonies were not so base as to be caught in 
this lure. The trick was at once discovered. The public press 
called on the people to resist this new encroachment on their liber- 
ties. Never before had all classes been so unanimous during the 
whole progress of the dispute ; and when the ships, freighted with 
tea, were announced off the coast, the enthusiasm passed all bounds. 
Cargoes had been sent to New York, Philadelphia, Charleston and 
Boston. New York and Philadelphia refused to suffer the tea to be 
landed, and the ships returned to London without breaking bulk. 
At Charleston the tea, though discharged, was put in damp cellars 
where it spoiled. At Boston, the citizens desired to send the vessels 
bacK, but the authorities refused permission : a proceeding which 
gave rise to one of the most memorable events of the Revolution 
We allude to the destruction of the tea in Boston harbor. 



DESTRUCTION OP TEA. 



37 



No sooner had the ships approached the wharves, than the people, 
actmg through a committee appointed at a town meeting, gave 
riotice to the captains not to land their cargoes. A guard was 
j)osted on the quay, and in case of any insult during the night, the 
alarm bell was to be rung. The excitement soon spread to the 
country, from whence the people arrived in large numbers. The 
consignees, fearing violence, finally fled to the protection of the 
castle. The governor, again solicited to clear the ships, haughtily 
refused. On this being declared at the town meeting, whither the 
inhabitants had collected almost spontaneously, an alarming scene 
of uproar ensued, in the midst of which a voice from the crowd 
raised the Indian war-whoop, and the meeting dissolved in confu- 
sion. As if foreseeing what was to ensue, the crowd hurried to the 




DESTRUCTION OF TEA IN BOSTON HARBOR. 



wharf, where the ships laden with tea were moored. In a few 
i^mutes about forty individuals disguised like Indians, and apparently 
acting on a preconcerted plan, made their appearance in the mob, 
who opened eagerly to let them pass. A rush was made for the 
ships, the Indians boarding them, while the populace silently thronged 
the wharves. The hatches were soon removed, and a portion of the 



38 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

patriots descending into the hold, passed up the tea, while the 
remainder broke open the chests as fast as they appeared, and threw 
the contents into the sea. It was night, and a profound stillness 
reigned. There was no cheering from the mob, no disorder, no 
haste. The only sound heard, was the crash of the chests, and the 
tread of the patriots as they crossed the decks. In two hours three 
hundred and forty chests were staved and emptied into the harbor. 
No other property whatever was injured. When all was finished, 
the disguised citizens left the ships, and quietly losing themselves 
among the crowd, disappeared, from that hour, from the public eye. 
Discovery would, perhaps, have led to the scaffold ; and hence those 
most active concealed their participation even from their own 
families. Tradition narrates one instance in which a good dame 
discovered, to her dismay, that her husband had been one of the 
Indians, in consequence of finding his shoes filled with tea the next 
morning by her bed-side. This memorable act, destined to excite 
the popular enthusiasm so much in subsequent times, happened on 
the 16th of December, 1773. 

On receiving intelligence of this event the British ministry were 
excessively exasperated ; and the feeling was shared by a majority 
of all classes in England. A bill was immediately passed through 
Parliament to deprive Boston of her privileges as a port of entry, 
and bestow them on Salem : another to revoke, in effect, the charter 
of Massachusetts, by making all magistrates in the colony be 
appointed by the King, and at his pleasure : and a third to give the 
royal governor the power, at his discretion, to send persons charged 
with homicide, or other criminal offences, to England for trial. To 
these measures of rigor was added one of conciliation. The gov^, 
ernor of Massachusetts was recalled, and General Gage, a man 
popular in the colonies, appointed in his place ; the most ample 
authority being given him to pardon all treasons and remit forfeitures. 

When the intelligence of these acts arrived in America, the whole 
country rose in sympathy and indignation. Virginia, as on the 
passage of the Stamp Act, was the first to sound the tocsin of alarm. 
The 1st of June, the day on which the port-bill was to take effect, 
was selected as a day of fasting, humiliation and prayer ; copies of 
the act were printed on mourning paper, and disseminated far and 
wide ; and popular orators in the public halls, as well as ministers 
of the gospel in their churches, exhausted eloquence and invective 
to inflame the minds of the people. The governor of Virginia, 
alarmed at the bold language of its Assembly, dissolved that body , 
Dut not before the members had resolved that an attempt to coerce 



THE COLONISTS SEIZE THE PUBLIC ARMS. 39 

one colony, should be regarded as an attack on all, and resisted 
accordingly. And as a pledge of the sincerity of this opinion, 
another general Congress was recommended, in order that the colo- 
nies might deliberate, as one man, on what was best to be done for 
the interests of America. Thus the two nations, like hostile armies 
approaching each other, after successive skirmishes, which continu- 
ally grew more serious, had now met on a common battle-ground, 
and were marshalling their respective forces into a compact line for 
a general and decisive assault. 

The day on which tj^e port-bill went into operation, as on the 
similar occasion of the Stamp Act, was observed throughout the 
country as a season of mourning. In Boston tears and lamentations 
were everywhere heard, mingled with angry execrations and threats: 
for by this act whole families were reduced to indigence, and 
business of all kinds received a fatal blow. But, in the emergency, 
the sympathy of the country came to their aid. Salem tendered the 
use of her wharves to the merchants of the persecuted city, nobly 
refusing to take advantage of her neighbor's misfortunes : while 
collections for the relief of the sufferers were made in most of the 
colonies, and promptly forwarded. Added to this, a league, which 
was now started in Boston, to stop all commerce with England until 
the tyrannical acts were repealed, was enthusiastically received in 
the other colonies, and signed with avidity ; while the Virginia 
proposition for another general Congress was adopted by the several 
legislatures, and delegates chosen accordingly. The City of Phila- 
delphia, from its superior wealth and importance, as well as from 
its central situation, was designated as the place of meeting. 

Meanwhile the civil magistrates in Massachusetts suspended their 
functions, the people, since the law altering the appointment of these 
officers, interfering to prevent their holding courts, or otherwise ex- 
ercising authority. In these commotions, not only the irresponsible, 
but the wealthy took part : the landed proprietors being foremost. 
An opinion that war was inevitable began to spread. The Assem- 
bly of Massachusetts having been countermanded by .General Gage, 
ninety of the members met, in defiance of the proclamation, and, 
among other things, passed an act for the enlistment of a number of 
inhal.jitants to be ready to march at a minute's warning ; and with 
such alacrity was this warlike movement seconded by the people, 
that, soon after, on a false alarm that the royal army had fired Bos- 
ton, thirty thousand men, in a few hours, assumed arms and pro- 
ceeded towards the scene of strife. Everywhere throughout the New 
England states the powder in the public magazines was seized. At 



40 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 



Newport, R. I., the inhabitants took possession of forty pieces of - 
cannon which defended the harbor. At Portsmouth, N. H., the 
people stormed the fort and carried off the artillery. The thunder- 
bolts of war were rapidly forging. 




CAKPENTEES' HALL, PHILADELPHIA, WHERE THE FIRST CONGRESS MET. 



The Congress met on the 14th of September, 1774. All the colo 
nies were represented. Never before had so august a body assem- 
bled on the American continent. The members having been chosen 
for their ability, their prudence, or their large possessions, the confi- 
dence in them was extreme ; and they were universally regarded as 
men who, in some way or other, would rescue their country from its 
difficulties. There was, therefore, as if by tacit consent, a general 
pause on all sides, every eye being directed to this solemn and mo- 
mentous assembly. 

The first act of the Congress was to choose Peyton Randolph, of 
Virginia, Prepident, and Charles Thomson, of Philadelphia, Secre- 
tary ; a selection indicative of its future proceedings, both men being 
singularly remarkable for prudence and firmness. Its next was to 
pass a series of resolutions commending the province of Massachu- 
setts for its patriotic course. After this, it published a declaration 
of rights. Next it resolved to enter into a non-impoitation, non- 



ACTS OF THE FIRST CONGRESS. 41 

consumption, and non-exportation agreement. And finally, it adopt- 
ed an address to the people of Great Britain, a memorial to the 
inhabitants of British America, and a petition to the King. 

These several documents were written with a moderation and 
eloquence which immediately attracted the attention of Europe, and 
have rendered them models of state papers even to the present time, 
The address to the people of England displayed particular merit. It 
avoided, with great tact, any offence to their prejudices, while it 
strove to enlist them in the cause of America, by the common bond 
of interest. The memorial, however, wholly failed of its purpose, 
as did also the petition to the King : the public opinion in England, 
excepting with a portion of the whigs, continuing to be as obstinate 
as ever. The Congress, having executed its task in a manner to 
win the increased confidence of the country, and extort the applause 
of unprejudiced Europe, adjourned, after appointing the 10th of May," 
1775, for the convocation of another general Congress, by which 
period, it was supposed, the answers to the memorial would be 
received. 

The Legislature of Pennsylvania, which convoked towards the 
close of the year, was the first constitutional authority which ratified 
the acts of Congress, and elected deputies fo-r the ensuing. Provi- 
sion was imxmediately made of gunpov/der, iron, steel, saltpetre and 
other munitions of war. Maryland, Delaware, New Hampshire, 
and South Carolina soon after responded to the action of Congress. 
in like manner ; while Massachusetts and Virginia, in which the 
flame of liberty had first blazed forth, emulated each other in enthu- 
siastic preparations for the appeal to arms. In the latter colony, the 
officers of the provincial militia, after expressing their loyalty to the 
King, signified their determination to embark in the cause of the 
Congress; while in the former place, regiments were formed at 
Marblehead, Salem, and other seaports, of men thrown out of em- 
ployment, and thus doubly exasperated against England. In a word, 
the whole country suddenly assumed the aspect of a garrisoned 
camp, about to be beseiged, where all men busied themselves with 
forging armor, preparing weapons, and disciplining actively against 
the arrival of the foe. 

But one exception existed to this unanimity of opinion ; and that 
was in the case of the colony of New York. This province had 
been, from its foundation, less republican in the character of its in- 
stitutions than the others : and now, whether from this or other causes, 
it numbered a larger proportion of royalists than any sister colony. 
Moreover, the merchants of New York city Avere deeply interested 
6 D* ' 



42 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

against the non-importation agreement. In consequence, the recom 
mendations of Congress were not responded to in this province. 

When the Enghsh ministry first saw the imposing attitude assumed 
by the Congress, and the enthusiasm with which the recommenda- 
tion was received by the Americans, the idea was for a moment 
entertained by Lord North, of making such concessions as would 
arrest the threatened conflict. The disaffection of New York, how- 
ever, changed the ministers resolution. Imbibing the idea that the 
loyalists in this latter colony outnumbered the patriots, and that they 
were a numerous and increasing body in the other provinces, he 
determined to abandon all thought of conciliation, believing that the 
Americans would yet eventually succumb. In this opinion he was 
sustained by the declarations of General Grant, and others who had 
been in the provinces, and who boasted, that with five regiments the 
whole continent could be subdued. 

Accordingly, several severe acts were immediately passed against 
the colonies. Their trade was restricted to Great Britain and the 
West India islands, and their lucrative fishery on the Newfoundland 
Banks prohibited ; an exception, however, being made in favor of 
New York and North Carolina. They also held out inducements 
for the different provinces to return to allegiance separately, hoping 
thus to break up the league, which was what they chiefly dreaded. 
They gave orders to embark ten thousand troops to America. And 
finally, as the crowning act of the whole, they declared the province 
of Massachusetts in a state of rebellion ; firmly believing that the use 
of that terrible word, so intimately associated with the axe and 
scaffold, would frighten the colonists into submission. 

But they had to do with men of sterner stuff, and who were not 
to be moved by such anticipations. The sons of those patriots who 
had dared Charles the First in the height of his power ; had with- 
stood even the terrible Cromwell ; and had been willing to share the 
block with Russell and Sydney, in a gloomier hour, were not to be 
intimidated by the name of treason, or driven from their course even 
by the ghastly terrors of Temple Bar. The news of the proceedings 
of Parliament was received with a burst of indignant enthusiasm. 
In Massachusetts, as the province most nearly concerned, the flame 
blazed highest and most intense. The Congress of that colony 
passed, with acclamation, a resolution to purchase ganpowder and 
procure arms for a force of fifteen thousand men. The people 
))usied themselves secretly in fulfilling this ordei'. Cannon balls 
were carried through the English post in carts of manure ; powder 
in the baskets of farmers returning from market ; and cartridges in 



ASSEMBLING OF THE MINUTE MEN. 



43 




BA.TTLK OF LEXINGTON. 



:;andle-boxes. Watches were posted at Cambridge, Roxbury, and 
Charlestown, to be on service day and night, in order to give warn 
ing to the towns where magazines were kept, in case General Gage 
should despatch a force to seize them. Like the inhabitants of a 
feudal frontier in momentary expectation of invasion, the people, as 
it were, slept on their arms, ready, at the light of the first beacon, to 
vault into the saddle, and gallop on the foe. 

An outbreak could not be long averted. On the 18th of April, 
1775, an expedition set out secretly from Boston, composed of the 
grenadiers and several companies of light infantry, destined to 
destroy the provincial stores collected at Concord, about twenty- 
eight miles distant. Notwithstanding precautions had been taken 
to preserve the expedition secret, the colonists received intelligence 
of the projected movement, and fleet couriers were despatched 
in advance, to alarm the towns along the route, and procure the 
removal of the stores. The bells rung ; cannon were fired ; beacons 
blazed on the night ; and everywhere the country was filled with 
excitement and alarm. The minute men turned out. The people 
armed. At Lexington a small party had assembled on the green, 
certainly with no intention of immediate strife, as their number wasr 



44 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

too few, when, at daylight, the British grenadiers appeared in sight, 
and Major Pitcairn, considerably excited, riding up, exclaimed, 
"Disperse, you rebels, lay down your arms and disperse." The 
provincials hesitated to obey. Pitcairn, springing from the ranks, 
fired a pistol at the foremost minute-man, brandished his sword, and 
ordered the soldiers to fire. On this the provincials retired, sullenly 
fighting as they fled. 

The English commander, now sensible of his imprudence, hurried" 
on eagerly to Concord. Here the inhabitants were found in arms, 
but, being too few to make a successful stand, they were routed by 
the light infantry, while the remainder of the royal force proceeded 
to destroy the stores, which the colonists had not had leisure to 
remove. This occupied some time, at the end of which the country 
people began to swarm to the scene. The light infantry, which at 
first had been victorious, was now in turn compelled to fly, and re- 
joining the grenadiers, the whole body commenced a precipitate 
retreat. 

The country rose with one sentiment, on hearing of the massacre 
at Lexington, and marched to intercept the fugitives on their retreat 
In consequence, the English, on their way back to Boston, had to 
maintain a running fight ; the provincials harassing them from every 
cross-road, from behind stone fences, and from the windows of 
houses. But for the timely ajrival of a reinforcement under Lord 
Percy, which joined the fugitives at Lexington, the whole detach 
ment would have fallen a sacrifice. Weary, dispirited, and weak 
from wounds, the royal soldiers reached Charlestown neck at night- 
fall, and the next day slunk into Boston, where they remained 
besieged until the evacuation of the town in the succeeding year. 

In this manner was the first blow struck in the memorable war 
for American Independence : a war which laid the foundation of a 
mighty republic, and has since shaken half the habitable globe. 




THE MINUTE MAN OF THE KEVOLUTION. 



BOOK II 



TO THE BATTLE OF TRENTON. 



HE intelligence of the battle of Lex- 
ington traversed the country with the 
speed of a miracle. On the first news 
of the fight, couriers, mounted on 
fleet horses, started off in every direc- 
tion, and when one gave out another 
took his place, so that before midnight 
the event was known at Plymouth, 
and on the next day through all the 
peaceful vallies of Connecticut. Eve- 
rywhere the information was received as a signal for war. Old 
and young seized their arms and hastened without delay to 
Boston. The provincial leaders in the late French war, who had 
for nearly fifteen years of peace been quietly at work on their farms, 
re-appeared from their obscurity, resumed their swords, and called on 

45 




46 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

their countiymen to follow them m this new and more righteous quar 
rel. The summons was obeyed with alacrity. The New Hampshire 
militia were on the ground almost before the smoke of battle had 
subsided : the Connecticut regiments followed in little more than a 
week ; while from Massachusetts the people poured in, with con- 
stantly increasing numbers, inland as well as sea-coast contributing 
its quota to the fray. 

On the day after the battle, the Provincial Congress of Mas- 
sachusetts ordered a levy of thirteen thousand six hundred men : 
an example which was followed, though of course on a smaller 
scale, by the other New England states. Befbre a month an 
army, fifteen thousand strong, besieged Boston. This imposing 
force was under the command of General Thomas Ward, of 
Massachusetts, who fixed his headquarters at Roxbury. General 
Putnam, of Connecticut, was posted at Cambridge, as his subor- 
dinate. At first the popular einthusiasm ran so high that the 
Generals were forced to decline recruits, more presenting themselves 
than they were authorized to enlist. 

Meantime, in consequence of the investment, a scarcity of food 
began to be felt in Boston. Skirmishes between the provmcial 
and royal detachments sent out for supplies, were the frequent 
result. In this strait the citizens waited on General Gage and 
solicited permission to leave the town, to which he at first ac- 
ceded ; but in the end, fearing that the city would be set on 
fire as soon as the patriots had retired, he withdrew his consent 
After this, none of the townspeople were suffered to depart, except 
in rare instances, and then only by the sacrifice of their furniture, 
which they were restricted from removing. 

Not only in New England, but throughout all the Middle and 
Southern colonies, the intelligence of the battle of Lexington was 
received with a burst of enthusiastic patriotism. In New York the tory 
ascendancy was swept away, never again to be recovered; in Virginia 
the inhabitants rose under Patrick Henry, and drove the governor, 
Lord Dunmore, to his fleet : in South Carolina a Provincial Congress 
was convoked, and every, man in the colony off'ered for the service of 
the common cause : while in Maryland, Pennsylvania and New Jer- 
sey the public arms and treasures were seized, people of all classes, 
even some of the loyalists themselves, joining in a common cry of 
vengeance for their slaughtered countrymen. 

Meantime two bold and original minds, simultaneously, and 
in different sections of the country, conceived the idea of cap- 
turing Ticonderoga, a fort at the southern ^extremity of Lake 



CAPTURE OF FORT TICONDEROGA. 



47 



Champlain, commanding the highway to the Canadas. It was 
thought that not only would the fall of this place supply the 
colonies with artillery, of which they were deficient, but so bril- 
liant a feat, thus early in the war, would exercise a powerful 
moral influence. Colonel Ethan Allen, with a company of Green 
Mountain boys, had already started on this expedition, when he was 
overtaken by Colonel Arnold, of Connecticut, who had left the camp 
at Roxbury, on a like design. The surprise of the latter was ex- 
treme to find himself anticipated, but not less so than his chagrin. 
Bold and impetuous, yet haughty and irritable, he at first demurred 
to serving under Allen, but finally consented, and the two leaders 
moved on in company, with despatch and secrecy, on which every- 
thmg depended. Arriving at Ticonderoga with but eighty three 
men, th-ej surprised the fort at day -break on the 10th of May. But 
one sentry was at his post ; the Americans rushed in, formed into 




COL. ALLEX SUilMOMNG THE COJiMAXDKR OF FORT TICONDKROGA TO SrEREXDER. 



squares, and gave three cheers, which awoke the garrison. Some 
skirmishing ensued, but defence was vain. Hastily aroused from 
bed, the commander of the fort stepped forward, unable as yet to 
comprehend why, or by whom, he was assailed. " In whose name 
am I called on to surrender ?" he asked. " In the name of the 
great Jehovah and the Continental Congress ! '^ replied Allen. Pur- 



48 THE WAR OF 'independence. 

suing their plan, the provincials sent a detachment immediately to 
Crown Point, another fort higher up the lake, which also fell into 
their, possession. A British sloop of war was, soon after, captured 
by Arnold in the most brilliant manner. By these bold achieve- 
ments a large quantity of artillery and ammunition was obtained^ 
besides the command of the great highway leading from the Cana- 
das to the Hudson. Arnold was left in command at Crown Point, 
while Allen retained Ticonderoga. 

When General Gage found himself besieged, he began to con- 
cert measures to break the meshes of his net. The provincial 
army extended in a semi-circle around Boston, on the land side, 
reaching from the Mystic river on the north, to Roxbury, on 
the south ; the whole line being twelve miles long, and suitably 
defended by ramparts of earth. Gage resolved to force this barricade, 
at Charlestown Neck. To do so it was first necessary to seize and 
fortify Bunker Hill, an elevation situated just where the peninsula 
shoots out from the mainland. The design, however, was pene- 
trated by the colonists, who resolved to anticipate him. Accordingly, 
at midnight on the 16th of June, a detachment of men, a thousand 
strong, under the command of Col. Prescott, was marched secretly 
across Charlestown Neck, with orders to entrench itself on the sum- 
mit of Bunker Hill. Putnam, however, who went with the detach- 
ment, being desirous of bringing on a battle, induced the alteration 
of the original plan, and the fortifications, instead of being erected 
on Bunker Hill, were begun on Breed's Hill, an elevation further 
in the peninsula, and directly overlooking Boston. It was after 
midnight when the first spade was struck into the ground, but be- 
fore dawn, which happened at this season at four o'clock, a con- 
siderable redoubt had risen on the summit of the hill : and when the 
enemy awoke, he beheld, with astonishment, this fortification tower- 
ing down upon him like some edifice of Arabian story, the magic 
exhalation of a night. 

It was instantly resolved to drive the Americans from the 
height: Accordingly a cannonade Avas begun from the royal 
ships in the river below, which was continued throughout the 
morning ; but the provincials worked silently on, and before 
noon had nearly completed their defences. These were a redoubt 
about eight rods square on the summit of the hill, flanked with a 
breast-work of earth, and a parapet running down towards Mystic 
river made of two parallel rail-fences, filled up between with hay. 
Some reinforcements arrived just as the battle was about to begin, 
raising the number of the provincials to nearly fifteen hundred, 



BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. - 4& 

Generals Pomeroy and Warren both joined the combatants almost 
at the moment of engagement, but declined to fight except as volun- 
teers. Consequently Col. Prescott continued in command. Putnam, 
J hough absent during the morning, was present when the crisis 
came, and by his voice and example contributed materially to the 
g'ory of the day. 

Two plans were proposed to dislodge the Americans. Clinton 
would have landed at Charlestown Neck, and by interposing between 
th } detachment on Breed's Hill and the main army, com^pelled the 
Surrender of the former. But Howe advocated a bolder plan. He 
proposed to storm the entrenchments in front. As this was more 
agreeable to the pride of the English, and to the contempt in which 
they held their enemy, it was finally adopted. A little after noon^ 
accordingly, Howe crossed the river with ten companies of grena- 
diers, as many of light infantry, and a proportionate number of 
artillery. Having reconnoitered the redoubt, he thought proper to 
delay his attack until he had sent for reinforcements. It was three 
()'(. lock before he began to move up the hill, which he did slowly, 
S)]?i artillery playing as he advanced. The Americans, meanwhile, 
'ttTithheld their fire. " Do not pull a trigger until you can see their 
^vaistbands," said Putnam. Volley after volley poured from the 
fJritish ranks : but there was no reply from the Americans ; the silence 
<^f death hung over their line. Soma of the English began to think 
f-he colonists did not intend to fight. But a glittering array of mus- 
/:ets, projecting from their entrenchments, convinced the few who 
!'inew them better, otherwise. "Do not deceive yourselves," said 
one of the bravest of the royal officers to his companions, " when 
these Yankees are silent in this way, they mean something." At 
last the assailants were within eight rods of the defences. Suddenly 
a solitary musket blazed from the redoubt. It was the signal for a 
thousand others which went off in irregular succession ; a scattering 
fire first rolling down the line, and then returning ; after which fol- 
lowed an explosion from the whole front, as if a volcano had burst 
forth. Each colonist had taken deliberate aim. The effect was 
terrific. The English rank and file went down like grain beaten by 
a tempest. For an instant those who remained unhurt stopped, and 
gazed around as if unable to comprehend this sudden and unexpect- 
ed carnage : then, as the fire of the Americans, which had slackened, 
began again, they reeled wildly before it, broke, and fled down 
the hill. 

Three times the British troops were led to the assault. Twice 
they recoiled, broken and in dismay. Between the first and second 
7 E 



50 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

charge there was but a slight pause : the troops were ralUed almost im 
mediately and led to the charge again. As they advanced, the town of 
Charlestown was fired at the suggestion of Howe, that officer hoping 
that the smoke would conceal an attack intended to be made simulta- 
neously on the southern side of the redoubt. The wind, however, was 
unfavorable, and the colonists detected the manceuvre ; while the sight 
of the burning houses inflamed them to ne w fury. Again the British 
were suffered to approach within eight rods : again the colonists 
poured in their deadly fire : again the assailants broke and fled, this 
time in utter confusion, and in such wild terror that many did not stop 
until they reached the boats. Half an hour now elapsed before the 
courage of the British soldiers could be re-animated. At last, Clinton 
arrived to succor Howe. The troops were now rallied and led once 
more to the attack, with orders, this time, to carry the redoubt by 
the bayonet. The fate of the third assault would probably not 
have differed from that of the two others, had not the ammunition 
of the colonists become exhausted. After a fruitless struggle, hand 
to hand, they were forced from the redoubt. Finding the day lost, 
a general retreat was ordered. It was during this retreat that the 
chief loss of the Americans occurred. After performing prodigies 
of valor, the provincials made good their escape over Charlestown 
Neck, leaving the enemy masters of the field. 

But it was a dearly bought. victory for the King. The number 
of killed and wounded in the royal army was fifteen hundred; 
while that of the Americans was but little over four hundred. 
Tliough the possession of the field remained with the British, 
the moral effect of the day was on the side of the provin- 
cials. That a comparatively small body of ill-disciplined militia 
should hold in check a force of regular troops twice their number, 
was something new m military annals, and proved that the people 
capable of doing this were not to be despised as foes. From that 
day the English no longer scorned their enemy. Nor was the 
effect of the battle less powerful in Europe, Military men saw at 
once that, however protracted the strife might be, the victory must 
at last rest with the Americans. The whole continent gazed with 
surprise on this new and striking spectacle. Nowhere in the old 
world did there exist a country, the common people of which were 
capable of such heroic deeds. No European peasantry would have 
ventured to assume so bold an attitude, or to have defended it so 
obstinately. The battle of Banker HiU revealed a new social prob- 
lem. It was as if a thunder-bolt had burst over astonished Europe ; 
and men stood in silent wonder and amazement, which increased 



PROCEEDINGS OF CONGRESS. 51 

as the storm rolled darker to the zenith, and the firmament quaked 
with neAV explosions. 

Meantime Congress had met on the appointed day, the 10th of 
May, when the news of the battle of Lexington being laid officially 
before them, they resolved unanimously that the colonies should be 
put in a state of defence. They issued instructions to procure pow- 
der ; passed a resolution to equip twenty thousand men ; and, in order 
to meet the necessary expenses, emitted bills of credit for which the 
faith of the united colonies was pledged. They now proceeded to the 
choice of a commander in chief. The New England states were 
anxious that one of their officers should be selected, but the more south- 
ern colonies regarded this proposal with disfavor. In this emergency 
John Adams suggested Col. George Washington, of Virginia, then 
a member of the Congress, and favorably known for his moderation, 
sound judgment, and military skill. The vote in his favor was 
unanimous. On being notified of the result, Washington made a 
few modest, yet dignified remarks. He expressed his unworthiness 
for the task, and begged the Congress to remember, in case of any 
failures on his part, that he had forewarned them of his incapacity 
He finished by declaring that, since no pecuniary consideration 
could induce him to abandon his domestic ease and enter this ardu- 
ous career, he did not wish to derive any profit from it, and would 
therefore accept no pay. 

The Congress next proceeded to issue a manifesto, justifying 
themselves before the world for the part they were taking. They 
also voted a letter to the English people, an address to the 
King, and an epistle to the Irish nation. They resolved fur- 
ther to thank the city of London for the countenance that she 
had shown them, as also to address the people of Canada, and 
invite them to make common cause against Great Britain. All 
these various documents were distinguished by a moderation and 
dignity which won the most favorable opinions among the conti- 
nental nations of Europe. The Congress also undertook measures 
to secure the neutrality of the Indian tribes, and counteract the 
machinations of Sir George Carleton, Governor of Canada, who was 
intriguing to arm them against the defenceless frontier. A general 
fast day was appointed, and it was considered a favorable omen 
that Georgia, which had hitherto been unrepresented in Congress, 
joined the league of the other colonies on the day fixed for this 
religious observance. Massachusetts was advised to form a govern- 
ment for herself, which was accordingly done : and her example 
was r. eedily followed by New Hampshire, Virginia and Pennsylva- 



52 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

nia. The Congress then devoted itself to the task of drawmg up 
articles of federation, which should bind the colonies during the war : 
these being prepared, somewhat on the plan of the subsequent con- 
stitution, were accepted by all the colonies except North Carolina. 
In short, matters were daily tending towards a formal separation of 
the provinces from the mother comitry, the necessity for such a de- 
termination hourly becoming more irresistible ; and the convictions 
of a few leading minds, moving with an accelerated speed in that 
direction, soon gathered around them the mass of the public senti- 
ment, and hurried it impetuously to the same conclusion. 

Washington lost no time in repairing to the army at Cam- 
bridge, ^vhich Congress had already adopted as its own. Here 
he fou.id everything in confusion. The troops were rather a 
mob of enthusiastic patriots than a body of efficient soldiery. 
There Avas no pretence of discipline in .the camp. The men 
elected their own ofticers, and consequently did very much as 
they pleased. Their terms of enlistment were so short, that they 
had scarcely time to learn the routine of a soldier's duty, before their 
period expired, and they returned to their homes. There was little 
poAvder in the country, much less at camp. Added to this there 
existed an almost universal dissatisfaction among the higher officers 
at the Congressional appointments of Major and Brigadier Generals: 
a result inevitable, since all could not be gratified, and whoever was 
neglected was sure to complain. An ordinary man would have 
shrunk at once from this complication of difficulties. But Washing- 
ton set himself j adiciously, yet firmly to correct these evils. Nor did 
he wholly fail. Jealousies were removed : discipline was strength- 
ened ; and munitions of war were provided ; but the main evil, the 
short enlistment of troops, could not be corrected in consequence of 
the jealousy of Congress against a standing army. It was not until 
later, when the country rocked on the very abyss of ruin, that Wash- 
ington's representations prevailed, and an earnest effort was made 
to enlist soldiers for the war. 

Meantime the siege of Boston was continued with unabated vigor 
Congress had placed the army establishment at twenty thousand men ; 
and nearly that number of troops now environed the hostile town. On 
the sea the colonies were not less active. Vessels had been fitted out 
by the different provinces, which distinguished themselves by their ac- 
tivity in preying upon British commerce. In this way numerous valu- 
able prizes were taken at a considerable distance from the coast, while 
.ships, laden with provisions and munitions for the English army 
were almost daily captured. In retaliation, the enemy began to 



LEE SENT TO FORTIFY NEW YORK. 



53 




commit depredations on the coast. Frequent skirmishes occurred in 
consequence, in which the colonists were not always worsted. This 
induced one act, at least, imworthy of the British name. About the 
middle of October, the town of Falmouth, in Massachusetts, was 
bombarded and reduced to ashes, as a punishment for some of its 
inhabitants having molested a ship laden with the effects of loyalists. 
The horrors of civil war were now beginning to be felt. 

Congress had desired that Boston might be stormed, and Wash- 
ington appears to have entertained the same wish, but a council 
of war decided against the measure, as calculated to risk too 
much. In the meanwhile intelligence was received of a secret 
expedition on the part of the British, under the command of 
Sir Henry Clinton ; and fearing it might be directed against New 
York, Major General Lee was despatched to fortify that city, and 
on his way, to raise troops in Connecticut for its defence. At New 
York it was discovered that Clinton's destination was the South, and 
at the request of Congress, Lee followed him thither. In another 
place we shall speak of the gallant repulse which the ememy's ex- 
pedition met. Leaving the army around Boston, to watch the 
straitened foe, and wait the coming in of the ever memorable year 



54 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

1776, let US now retrace our steps to the preceding September, m 
order to carry on, in an unbroken series from its commencement, the 
narrative of the war in Canada. 

Congress had early adopted the idea that the assistance of Canada 
was necessary to success in the contest against the parent state. The 
refusal of the Canadians to side with England, though in reality pro- 
ceeding from indifference to either party, was interpreted as a proof of 
secret affection to the colonial cause. Accordingly, one of the earliest 
measure of Congress was to send an address to the Canadians, backed 
by an armed force to act against the British authority. The command 
of this expedition was entrusted to Generals Schuyler and Montgom- 
ery, but the former falling sick, the latter obtained the sole direction of 
the enterprize. He was admirably fitted for his task, and advanced 
with rapidity. On the 10th of September, the Americans landed at 
St. John's, the first British post in Canada : and in a short time, with 
but one slight check, they had taken Fort Chamblee, St. John's, and 
Montreal; driving Sir George Carleton a fugitive to Quebec. 

Simultaneously with the expedition under Montgomery, which 
had advanced by the usual route of Lake Champlain, another expedi- 
tion, commanded by Arnold, and despatched by Washington, was 
penetrating to Canada through the wilds of Maine. Never was a more 
difficult enterprize undertaken, or an apparent impossibility so gallant- 
ly overcome. Through trackless forests, across rugged hills, over rivers 
full of rapids, the little arijiy made its way, often without food, more 
often without rest, and frequently drenched to the skin for days. In 
six weeks the expedition reached Canada. It burst on the aston- 
ished enemy, as if it had risen suddenly from the earth; and in the 
first moments of consternation Quebec had nearly become its prey. 
But the enemy having been treacherously informed of Arnold's ap- 
proach, had made themselves ready to receive him ; and he was forced 
to abandon the enterprise at present. On the first of December, how- 
ever, the forces of Montgomery and Arnold were united, and they 
resolved now to undertake together what Arnold had found himself 
incompetent to achieve alone. On the 31st, they made their com- 
bined attack on that celebrated fortress. Montgomery gained the 
heights of Abraham, but fell almost in the arms of victory ; and on 
this fatal event, the troops under him retreated. Arnold made an 
attack on the other side of the town, but was wounded in the leg at 
the first onset, and carried off the field : the darkness of the morning 
prevented Morgan, who succeeded in the command, from pursuing 
the advantages he at first gained, and in the end that gallant officer, 



CANADA ABANDONED BY THE AMERICANS. 



55 




with his rifiemen, was captured. Tims the attack, on all sides, was 
repulsed. 

The subsequent story of the war in Canada is soon told. On 
the death of Montgomery, Arnold succeeded to the chief com- 
mand, and besieged Quebec ; but the small-pox appeared among 
his troops, and though he was reinforced, the breaking up of 
the ice in the succeeding May, enabling the English fleet to 
ascend the St. Lawrence, compelled him to retire. Meantime, 
the prejudices of the Canadians had been aroused against the Ameri- 
cans, partly in consequence of the indiscretions of our troops, so that 
instead of finding the people their friends, they discovered in them 
irreconcilable enemies. By the end of May, the British force in 
Canada amounted to thirteen thousand men. To continue, it was 
wisely judged, would be to play a losing game, and invite almost 
certain destruction. Accordingly, on the 15th of June, 1776, Gen- 
eral Sullivan, who had been sent meantmie to take the command, 
abandoned Montreal, and led his army back to Crown Point, with 
comparative little loss. The enemy did not, at that time, follow the 



56 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

receding wave, but in the succeeding year, as we shall find, poured 
his advancing tide on the track of the fugitives. 

Meanwhile, in England, preparations had been making to carry 
on the war with an energy that should at once put down 
all further opposition. General tlowe was to be sent out to 
supercede Gage, and Lord Howe was to accompany his brother 
with a fleet. As great difficulty, however, existed in enlist- 
ing a sufficient number of recruits in England, overtures were 
made, at first to Russia, and subsequently to Holland, to furnish 
soldiers. Great Britain to pay a fixed premium per head. In both 
cases the application failed. Some of the lesser German principali- 
ties were, ho v/ ever, found, at last, to consent that their soldiers 
should enter a foreign service. In this manner seventeen thousand 
Hessians were procured. The intelligence of this event was received 
in America with almost universal horror and detestation, and con- 
tributed materially to increase the exasperation of the colonies, and 
hasten their separation from the mother country. 

With this force of Hessians, and an additional one of nearly 
thirty thousand native born soldiers, the British government pre- 
pared to open the campaign of 1776. The ministry was the 
more active in its exertions, because desirous of striking some 
decisive blow before France should join in the quarrel ; for 
already it was foreseen that jealousy of her ancient rival would 
induce that power to assist America, as soon as convinced that a 
reconciliation was impossible. With these extensive prepara- 
tions, however, conciliation was not forgotten, and it was resolved 
to send out commissioners to America to grant individual amnesties, 
and to declare a colony, or colonies restored to its allegiance to the 
King, and therefore to be exempt from the hostility of the royal 
troops. It was hoped in this manner to seduce a portion of the pro- 
vincials back to loyalty, and thus break the combined strength of 
the whole. The two Howes were named as these commissioners. 

While these preparations were making in England, in America 
things were hastening to a crisis. The year opened with an un- 
diminished enthusiasm on the part of the continental army besieging 
Boston. The royal garrison suffered greatly for provisions. Before 
the end of February, Washington found himself at the head of four- 
teen thousand men. He had long Avished to attack Boston, but had 
been overruled by his council of officers ; now, however, he resolved 
to commence offensive operations without delay. He accordingly 
determined to occupy Dorchester Heights, which commanded Boston 
oti the south. On the 4th of March, 1776, the contemplated works 



ATTACK UPON CHxVRLESTON. 57 

weie begun, under cover of a heavy fire from the American battery 
on the British hues. Howe, who had meantime arrived to supercede 
Gage, no sooner saw these fortifications rising on his right, than he 
resolved to dislodge the Americans ; and everything had been pre- 
pared for the assault, when a storm suddenly arose and prevented 
the conflict. The continentals, in the meantime, finished theii 
works, which Howe now considered too strong to render an attack 
advisable. To remam longer in Boston, with Dorchester heights in 
possession of Washington, was impossible for the English General. 
Accordingly, he resolved to evacuate the place ; and Washington, 
on receiving notice of his intenton, agreed not to molest him. The 
evacuation was perfected on the 17th of March, on which day the 
inhabitants beheld with joy the British departing, the whole harbor 
being dotted with the transports that bore away the foe. Large 
numbers of loyalists followed the retreating army to Hahfax. The 
Americans entered the evacuated city with rejoicings, and immedi- 
ately proceeded to fortify it ; after which Washington moved the 
main portion of his force in the direction of New York, where he 
foresaw the next attempt of the English would be made. 

We have intimated before that Gen. Lee, who had at first been 
despatched to fortify New York, had subsequently been sent to the 
Southern States, where it was expected a descent would be made 
by the English, at the instigation of the royahsts, who, though less 
numerous than the whigs, were in considerable force there. As the 
spring advanced it became nearly certain that Charleston was the pro- 
jected point of attack. Accordingly, measures were taken to strength- 
en the harbor and place the town in a state of defence. Among other 
things, Sullivan's Island, six miles below the city, was fortified, as it 
was placed in a favorable position to command the channel. These 
hasty preparations had scarcely been completed when the expected 
English fleet arrived ofl" the coast. The squadron was under the 
command of Sir Peter Parker, and comprised two vessels of fifty 
guns each, four of twenty-eight, one of twenty-two, one of twenty, 
and two of eight. Besides this, there were nearly forty transports, 
containing three thousand land forces, under the command of 
Clinton. On the 25th of June, the English fleet advanced to the 
attack of the fort on Sullivan's Island ; Clinton, at the same time, 
intending to disembark on the neighboring island of Long Island, 
and assail the fort on land. But a succession of easterly winds had 
so deepened the channel between Sullivan's Island and Long Island, 
that Clinton found it impossible to ford it, and was compelled to 
abandon his part of the attack. The fleet nevertheless persisted. 
8 



SB 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 




ADMIRAL Sm PETER PARKER. 



Three of the frigates, however, ran aground, and could not take up 
the positions assigned them. The others, nevertheless, gallantly 
began the combat, which, for some hours, raged with awful fury. 
Never were greater prodigies of valor performed than on that day 
in the American fort. The city was in full sight across the water, 
and the inhabitants gazed anxiously on the spectacle. From ten 
o'clock in the morning until after twilight, the combat was iuain- 
tained on both sides with fury : the English firing shot and shells 
incessantly, the Americans replying from their guns with deliberate 
and deadly aim. All day the sky was black with bombs, whirling and 
liissing as they flew : all day the roar and blaze of artillery deafened 



DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. ^ 

the ears and blinded the sight of the thousands of spectators. Many of 
the British vessels were almost cut to pieces ; their crews suffered terri- 
bly. Night came, but still the strife continued. Fiery missives crossed 
and re-crossed the heavens ; the smoke that lay along the water 
grew lurid in the darkness. At last the firing slackened. By eleven 
at night the fleet slipped cables and retired out of range of the fort. 
The next morning, one of the royal ships, the Acteon, which had 
grounded and could not be carried off, was set on fire and deserted, 
on which she blew up. Seven thousand balls, picked up on the 
island after the engagement, evinced the fury of the attack. When 
we consider that the American force consisted of less than four hun- 
dred regulars, with a few volunteer militia, we begin fully to com- 
prehend the greatness of the victory, which indeed was the Bunker 
Hill of the South. The loss of the British was two hundred and 
twenty-two, that of the Americans thirty-two. The fort was subse- 
quently called Fort Moultrie, in honor of Colonel Moultrie, who . 
commanded at the island during the battle. General Lee, who had 
posted himself nearer the city, not expecting the real struggle to 
occur at the fort, was only present once during the fight, having 
visited the island to cheer the troops. After his repulse. Sir Peter 
Parker sailed for Sandy Hook ; Clinton, with his land forces accom- 
panying him : and several years elapsed before the English made a 
second assault on the South, the history of which attempt, in due 
time will form a chapter by itself. 

During the winter the public feeling in America had been growing 
more and more favorable to a total separation of the colonies from 
the mother country. Many able writers of essays and pamphlets, 
which were circulated extensively, had contributed to bring about 
this result. Among others, an Englishman named Thomas Paine, 
had rendered himself conspicuous by a pamphlet entitled " Common 
Sense," which demonstrated the benefits, practicability and necessity 
of independence, and with great vigor of language and force of 
invective, assailed monarchical governments. Congress, mean- 
time, approached nearer and nearer to independence, by passing 
laws more and more irreconcilable with allegiance. Thus, in May, 
reprisals were authorized, and the American ports opened to the 
whole world except England. At last, on the 7th of June, Richard 
Henry Lee, one of the delegates from Virginia, submitted a resolu- 
tion in Congress declaring the colonies free and independent states 
A series of animated and eloquent debates ensued. The wealthy 
state of Pennsylvania long hesitated, though finally she gave hei 
consent. The original draft of the memorable document, called 



60 



THE WAH OF INDEPENDENCB. 




inSEPENOENCK BAIX. 



the Declaration of Independence, was from the pen of Thomas Jef- 
ferson. On its adoption it was ordered to be engrossed and signed 
by every member of the Congress. The resolution in favor of inde- 
pendence was finally passed on the 2nd of July, and the form of the 
declaration agreed to on the 4th. Custom has since observed the 
latter day as a public festival, a proceeding which John Adams pro- 
phetically foretold: "I am apt to believe," he wrote to his wife, 
" that this day will be celebrated by succeeding generations as a 
great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as a day 
of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It 
ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, 
.s])orts, guns, bells, bonfires and illuminations, from one end of this 
continent to the other, from this time forward, forevermore." 

The Declaration of Independence was hailed with general enthusi- 
asm, both in the army, and by the people at large. Men felt that 
the day of reconciliation had passed, that any compromise with 
F^ngland would have been hollow, and that the time had come to 



WASHINGTON \T NEW YORK. 



61 



throw away the scabbard, and delude themselves no longer with 
false hopes of peace. For more than a year the provinces had vd-- 
tually been in a state of independence. It was but proper, therefore 
to cast off disguise, and assume before the world the station they 
really held. If a few timorous souls drew back in terror from the 
act, and others continued to deceive themselves with idle hopes of 
a reconciliation, the great body of the people neither entertained 
such notions, nor shrank from assuming the required responsibility. 




COMMITTEE PKESENTING THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE TO CONGRESS. 



The enthusiasm of the country was now, perhaps, at its highest 
point. Success hitherto had crowned nearly every effort of the colo- 
nists. Boston had fallen, the English were repulsed from Charleston, 
independence had been declared. But a new scene was now about 
to open. A period of disaster, and gloom, and despair, was to suc- 
ceed, ending at last in the apparently inevitable necessity of an uncon 
ditional surrender. The dark days of the Revolution were at hand. 
A.S the curtain rises, the shadows lengthen. 

Meanwhile, Washington had taken up his position at New York, 
where he found that Putnam, the successor of Lee, had constructed a 



62 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

chain of works. On the 25th of June, General Howe made his expect- 
ed appearance off Sandy Hook. His brother, Admiral Howe, arrived 
at the same place on the 12th of July : and shortly afterwards Clin- 
ton joined them from the South, bringing the three thousand troops 
repulsed at Charleston. The whole force of the British army, thus 
collected off New York, was twenty-four thousand men. Before 
commencing hostilities, however,-Lord Howe, as instructed by the 
ministry, addressed a circular letter to the chief magistrates of the 
colonies, acquainting them with his powers, and desiring them to 
publish the same for the information of the people. Congress, 
conscious of possessing the popular affections, treated the commis- 
sioners with contempt, by sending Howe's documents to General 
Washington, to be proclaimed to the army, and ordering them also 
to be published in the newspapers. Lord Howe, about this time, 
attempted to open a correspondence with General Washington, by 
addressing him as George Washington, Esq., but the commander-in- 
chief, determining not to compromise his own dignity, or that of 
Congress, refused to receive any letter on public business, in which 
he was not addressed by his official titles. 

Preparations were now made by the British for their long contem- 
plated assault on New York: but, prior to this, it was deemed 
advisable to dislodge the Americans from their position on Long 
Island, opposite the city. The works here consisted of a fortification 
at Brooklyn, well defended on the left by the East River, on the 
right by the bay, and behind by the harbor and Governor's Island. 
In front of this fortification was an open plain, crossed by three 
great roads diverging from Brooklyn, and passing over a chain of 
wooded hills at some distance from the town. Each of these roads 
should have been defended, at the point where it crossed the hills, 
by a. sufficiently numerous detachment to keep the pass : but unfor- 
tunately the Americans were not strong enough for this, their whole 
effective force being but tw-enty thousand men, of which a conside- 
rable portion had to be detained within the lines, at Brooklyn, at 
New York, and in various other places. The next best thing would 
have been to have kept the main body moving in front of Brooklyn, 
as on a centre, while small parties should be sent to occupy the three 
passes through the hills, so that, on notice being received where the 
English intended to attack in force, the Americans might be precipi- 
tated on that point. But, as if fate was resolved on that day to be 
against the colonies, Gen. Greene, to whom had been confided the 
works at Brooklyn, fell sick two days before the battle. Gen. Put- 
nam was sent to occupy his place, but owing to the hurry could 



BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND. 63 

not fully make himself master of the nature of the ground in time for 
the attack. He, therefore, posted but an inconsiderable detachment 
at the eastern pass, reserving his principal force to meet the enemy 
at the central and western passes, by one of which he supposed the 
the main attack would be made. Putnam himself remained, during 
the day, within the entrenchments at Brooklyn. Sullivan had com- 
mand of all the troops without, and was posted on the plain, just 
within the central pass, where the road from Flatbush to Brooklyn 
traverses the hills. 

It was on the morning of the 2Sth of August, that the battle began. 
Early on the evening before, Gen. Clinton, who had been posted 
with the centre of the British army at Flatbush, discovered the 
weakness of the American forces at the eastern pass, and silently 
drew off in that direction, intending there to make the main attack. 
In the meantime, by way of a feint, General Grant, with the British 
left wing, was directed to advance against the Americans by the 
western pass. Accordingly, about three o'clock in the morning, he 
made the attack, which Lord Stirling, at the head of fifteen hundred 
Americans, prepared to resist. Grant, however, who had no wish to 
rout his opponent, contented himself with amusing Stirling, until he 
should hear of the success of Clinton's intended movement to get be- 
tween the main body of the Americans and Brooklyn. General de 
Heister, who commmanded the British centre, manoeuvred meanwhile 
in front of the middle pass, not wishing to advance in earnest until 
Clinton should carry his point : but, in order to deceive, he began at 
sunrise a distant cannonade on the redoubt opposite him, where 
General Sullivan, with the main body of our troops, was stationed. 
Thus, two portions of the British army combined to amuse their 
opponents, while a third was insidiously stealing into their rear. 

Had the detachment posted to watch the eastern route been active 
and brave, no surprise would have taken place. But Clinton, 
arriving at the pass before day, captured the whole party before 
they had even suspected his approach, and immediately crossing the 
hills, he poured his splendid legions into the plain below, and began 
to interpose himself between Sullivan and Brooklyn. The very 
existence of America trembled in the balance at that moment. But 
fortunately the manoeuvre of Clinton was detected before it was too 
late. Sullivan, discovering that Clinton was in his rear, began a 
retreat to the lines, but he had not retired far before he was met by 
that General, and forced back in the direction of Heister, who, as 
soon as made aware of the success of Clinton's stratagem, had 
dashed over the hills, and impetuously assailed the Americans 



64 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

Thus, tossed to and fro between two bodies of the enemy, now 
facing Heister, now retreating before CUnton, the troops under Sul- 
Uvan, in spite of the most desperate efforts, during which a portion 
actually cut their way through the foe, and escaped to Brooklyn, 
were finally compelled, with their leader, to lay down their arms. 
Lord Stirling, whom we left amused by Grant, was equally unfor- 
tunate. When this last officer advanced in earnest, he was taken 
prisoner with four hundred of his men, although not until he had 
secured the retreat of the remainder. The victorious English, 
advancing with loud huzzas across the plains, drove what was left 
of the American army within the lines, where dismay and terror 
reigned universal, for an immediate assault was expected. Had 
General Howe then yielded to the importunities of his officers, and 
led the excited soldiers to the charge, there is little doubt but that 
his victory would have been complete, and the whole American 
force on the Long Island side of the river become his prey. But 
his habitual prudence prevailing, he ordered a halt, and commenced 
leisurely to break ground in due form before the entrenchments. 
Washington availed himself of this blunder to withdraw from a posi- 
tion no longer tenable, and in the night transported his troops, their 
artillery, and all his munitions of war, in safety to New York. 

The loss of the Americans in this battle w^as over a thousand 5 
that of the English but three hundred and fifty. It was not only in 
its immediate effects, however, that the defeat was so disastrous ; the 
remoter results were even more injurious to the American cause. 
The battle of Long Island was the first pitched battle between the 
continental army and the British. Great, even extravagant expec- 
tations had been formed concerning the prowess of the continental 
army ; and now, with the versatility of the popular mind, despair 
succeeded to former elation. It was thought impossible for Ameri- 
can soldiers ever to be brought to face the disciplined troops of 
England. This sentiment found its way into the camp, and pro- 
duced the most alarming desertions. Added to this, the men whose 
t(;rms began to expire, refused to re-enlist. The exertions of Wash- 
ington and Lee, however, delayed the reduction of the army for a 
while. Indeed, but for them, it would have crumbled to pieces like 
a fabric of ashes at the touch of the hand. 

A few days after the battle of Long Island, Lord Howe attempt- 
ed to open a correspondence with the American Congress, imagining 
that, in the general terror, the members would eagerly accept terms 
which tliey would have refused a few days before. To have 
decUned hearing him, would have looked as if that body was insin- 



WASHINGTON WITHDRAWS FROM NEW YORK. 



65 



cere in its desire to terminate the war. Accordingly, a committee 
was appointed to wait on Lord Howe. But finding that he pos- 
sessed no power to treat, but only to grant pardons, Congress refused 
to hold any further correspondence with him, and this attempt at 
reconciliation proved as abortive as former ones. 




LORD HOWE. 



General Washington now divided his army, leaving four thousand 
five hundred men in the city of New York, and stationing six thou- 
sand five hundred at Hserlem, and twelve thousand at Kingsbridge. 
He did this in order to prepare for an event which he saw to be 
inevitable, the ultimate evacuation of New York. A body of four 
thousand men landing under Clinton at Kipp's Bay, three miles 
above the city, drove in a detachment of American troops stationed 
there. Washington hurried to the scene, and threatened to cut 
down the panic-struck soldiers, but in vain, and the affair ended in 
an inglorious flight. In consequence of this, Washington withdrew 
from New York entirely, contenting himself with occupying the 
9 r* 



66 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

neighboring heights. The retreat was effected in good order, chiefly 
under the direction of Putnam. 

General Washington now strove to accustom his troops to face 
the enemy, by engaging them in a succession of skirmishes. In 
one of these affairs, on the 16th of September, the Americans gained 
some advantages; but they had to mourn the loss of Colonel 
Knowlton and Major Leitch, two valuable officers. At last Wash- 
ington found it necessary to retreat from York Island, as he had 
already done from the city of New York. He fell back, accordingly, 
to White Plains, evacuating all his posts on the island except Fort 
Washington, at the upper end, where a garrison of three thousand 
men was left, it being vainly supposed *that this stronghold, with 
that of Fort Lee, on the opposite side of the Hudson, would enable 
the Americans to retain the command of the river. 

As fast as Washington retired, the royal army pursued, until the 
former came to a stand at White Plains, where he threw up 
entrenchments. Here he was attacked by Howe, on the 28th of Octo- 
ber, and an action ensued, in which several hundreds fell : among 
these was the brave Colonel Smallwood, whose regiment, at Long 
Island, had borne the brunt of the fight. In consequence of this 
action, V/ashington took up a new and stronger position, with his 
right wing resting on some hills. On the 30th, Howe, who had 
meantime waited for his rear to come up, prepared to renew his 
attack; but a violent storm arising, he was forced to forego his 
purpose. Washington now changed his station again, withdrawing 
to North Castle, about five miles from White Plains, where he took 
up a position nearly, if not quite impregnable. Thus finding the 
prey escaped, which he had flattered himself was within his grasp, 
Howe changed his plan of operations, and determined to retrace his 
steps, and reduce Fort Washington, in his rear. The American 
General, learning this purpose, left Lee at North Castle with a por- 
tion of his force, and hastened to Fort Lee, opposite the threatened 
post, to watch his enemy. 

At first it was suggested that Fort Washington should be aban- 
doned ; but this counsel being overruled. Colonel Magaw, with a 
garrison of nearly three thousand men, was left to defend the place. 
On the 16th of November, the British advanced to the assault, after 
having summoned the post and been defied. The attack was vehe- 
ment and irresistible. The Americans were driven from the outer 
works, and finally forced to surrender as prisoners of war. The loss 
of the English, however, was severe, they suffering in round num- 
bers not less than eight hundred. But this did not compensate the 



DESPONDENCY OP THE AMERICANS. 67 

Americans for the capture of over two thousand of their best troops, 
and the moral effect of so terrible a disaster following on the heels 
of that of Long Island. The attempt to hold the fort was a mistake, 
for which General Greene is principally chargeable. In consequence 
of its fall, Fort Lee, on the opposite side of the Hudson, had to be 
evacuated. This was done in the most gallant style. General Greene 
fully redeeming his late blunder, by bringing off the army in safety, 
although Cornwallis, with six thousand victorious troops, was thun- 
dering in his rear. The retreat, however, had to be effected in such 
haste as to render a sacrifice of a vast quantity of artillery and mili- 
tary stores indispensable; Greene having barely time to escape with 
his men the moment he heard of the loss of Fort Washington, and 
that Cornwallis had crossed the Hudson. 

These successive disasters, following one upon another, reduced 
the American cause to the very verge of ruin. From the period the 
British had landed on Long Island, a series of misfortunes had pur- 
sued the army of Washington. Every day had seen his troops re- 
tiring before those of the enemy ; every hour had beheld his force 
dwindling down; every moment had witnessed the increasing 
despondency of the friends of liberty, both within and without the 
camp. The terms of large numbers of the men were now expiring, 
and the consequences of these disasters begun to be felt. Few 
would re-enlist. The enthusiasm which had first called them from 
their homes had begun to subside under the privations of a camp, 
and had now been completely dissipated by misfortune. The cause 
of America was generally regarded as lost. This feeling of des- 
pair even spread among the officers, and it required all Washington's 
firmness of mind to check its progress. But with the common men 
nothing could be done to check the panic. In vain did Congress 
endeavor to supply the places of those who retired, by new recruits. 
Even a bounty of twenty dollars to each private who would engage 
for the war, failed to hasten enlistments : and though the offer was 
subsequently made to all who would contract for three years, it 
proved equally inoperative. 

The army of Washington by these causes : by loss in battle, by 
desertion, by the capture of Fort Washington, and by the expiration 
of enlistments, had now sunk to little over three thousand men. The 
British, aware of his weakness, and convinced that a few decisive 
blows would finish the war forever, resolved not to go into winter 
quarters, but to follow up their successes by the pursuit and anni- 
hilation of the small force remaining in arms under Washing- 
ton. Accordingly, they pushed on to Newark, in New Jersey, 



68 



THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 



whither the American commander had retired. At this, Washing- 
ton fell back to New Brunswick. But the enemy still followed. 
As a last refuge he hurried to place the Delaware between him and 
his foe. On the 8th of December, he reached that river and retired 
across it, destroying the bridges, and removing all the boats, to 
secure his retreat. Scarcely had his rear gained the welcome right 
bank, than the English appeared on the left, but finding no means 
of crossing, they fell back in chagrin. 




BETKEAT OF THE AMERICAN APJttY THEOUGU NEW JERSEY. 



To add to the despondency of the times, the news was received, 
about this period, of the capture of General Lee, who had been tar- 
dily approaching Washington, in order to effect a junction. Lee 
had incautiously spent the night three miles from his forces, with 
but a small guard in attendance, when an English cavalry officer, 
hearing by accident of his unprotected situation, by a bold dash 
secured the valuable prize. As Lee was second in command in the 
army, and as the country entertained a high opinion of his abilities, 
his loss, at this critical moment, struck the last prop from the hopes 
of the patriots, and induced almost universal despair. 

Indeed, there was no longer any rational prospect of success on 
the part of the Americans. Heaven and earth seemed to have con- 
spired against their cause : and to have removed from it the counte- 
nance of man and God alike. Their best Generals were prisoners : 
their most wisely concerted plans had failed, almost as if by the 
direct interposition of fate ; and that popular enthusiasm, which had 



WASHINGTON RESOLVES TO RE-CROSS THE DELAWARE. 69 

been relied on as the support of the cause, and which at first had 
promised to sweep away all opposition before its resistless wave, 
had now subsided and left the country a wreck, high and dry on 
the shore. With three thousand men, Washington occupied the 
Delaware, while the British, with twenty thousand, swarmed over 
the Jerseys in pursuit. Already Philadelphia was threatened, and 
the most sanguine thought its capture could not be delayed a month. 
Congress had fled to Baltimore. Terror, panic, despair, and a self- 
ish desire to save themselves, began to affect even the best patriots. 
The clouds stooped low and black, and the tempest hurtled around 
every man's home. 

To add to the awful gloom of the crisis, Howe now issued a pro- 
clamation, offering a pardon to all who would lay down their arms 
and take the oath of allegiance, within sixty days. Instantly, him- 
dreds grasped at what they deemed a fortunate chance of escape : 
former professions were forgotten in present panic : and throughout 
New Jersey and Pennsylvania, the most alarming defections, even 
among leaders in the popular cause, daily occurred. The loyahsts, 
who had been heretofore overawed, now vented their long concealed 
rage : plunder, insult, and oppression became the daily lot of the 
suffering patriots. Almost alone, beneath this driving storm, 
Washington stood up erect and un appalled. For one moment his 
constancy did not forsake him. He was, in that awful hour, the 
Achilles and Atlas of the cause. No hint of submission ever 
crossed his lips : no word of despondency or doubt was heard. His 
unshaken front inspired Congress anew, warmed the drooping enthu- 
siasm of his army, and finally enabled him to deal a blow which 
rescued the country at the very instant of ruin, and sent his late tri- 
umphant foe reeling back with defeat. Like a wrestler, almost 
overcome in a struggle, and whom his antagonist thinks about to 
succumb, but who, rallying all his strength for a last effort, suddenly 
throws his astonished opponent, so, Washington, defeated and pros- 
trated, all at once started to his feet, and with one gigantic and 
desperate strain, hurled his enemy to the ground, stunned, bleeding, 
and utterly discomfited. 

The English, after the retreat of Washington across the Delaware, 
had distributed themselves in cantonments on the New Jersey side, 
occupying Trenton, Princeton, Burlington, Mount Holly, and vari- 
ous other posts. Flushed with victory, and fancying their enemy 
completely disheartened, they gave themselves up to ease and care- 
lessness. The watchful eye of Washington saw the inviting oppoi 
tunity to strike a blow. He knew that, without some speedy and 



70 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

brilliant success on his part, the cause of America was lost. It wa9 
better to hazard all on one die, than to lose the present precious 
opportunity which might never return. Accordingly, he resolved to 
re-cross the river and surprise the enemy, if possible, at one or more 
of his posts. The night of the 25th of December, was chosen for the 
purpose, as on that festival day the foe, little dreaming an enemy 




BATTLE OF TEENTON. 



was near, would probably give himself up to license and merriment. 
On that night, therefore, Washington crossed the Delaware at 
McConkey's Ferry, nine miles above Trenton. General Cadwalader 
was to have effected a landing opposite Bristol, and General Irvine 
was to have transported his troops at Trenton Ferry; but both 
failed in consequence of the river being full of driving ice : nor 
did Washington himself effect his crossing until four o'clock, and 
after incredible efforts. Once on the Jersey shore, however, he 
lost no time. Dividing his troops into two divisions, he sent one 
along the river road, while the other, accompanied by himself, took 
the upper or Pennington route. The night was bitterly cold, and 
the snow fell fast ; but the troops, animated by the same hope as 
their leader, pressed eagerly forward. The light was just breaking 
when, at eight o'clock in the morning, they drove in the outposts of 
the Hessians. The enemy, suddenly aroused from their beds or 
from the taverns where they had spent the night in drinking, seized 
their arms, rushed out, and made a show of resistance, their com- 
mander, Col. Rahl, gallantly leading them, until he fell mortally 



THE BATTLE OP TRENTON. TV 

wounded. The Hessians now fled rapidly down the village. At 
this juncture, the other detachment of the Americans, which, follow- 
ing the river road, had entered the town at its lower extremity, wa^ 
heard firing through the tempest; and the panic-struck Hessians, 
now enclosed between two forces, were speedily compelled to lay 
down their arms. Only a few cavalry of the enemy escaped. One 
thousand prisoners were taken, besides as many stand of arms, and 
six field-pieces. Had the detachments of Cadwalader and Irvine 
been able to cross as projected, the twenty-five hundred of the 
enemy at Bordentown, Mount Holly, and the White Horse, would 
hkewise have been captured, and the whole British force in that 
section of New Jersey prostrated at a blow. 

The moral eftects of this victory to the Americans, were even 
greater than the physical ones. Had a thunderbolt, when the sky 
was clear, fallen into their midst, the British could not have been 
more astounded. The effect in Europe was as electric as in Ame- 
rica. At once the name of Washington was quoted as that of one 
of the greatest commanders in ancient or modern history. The 
comprehensive plan of the attack, and the celerity of its execution, 
would have arrested applause, even if the Great Frederick had been 
its author, and his unequalled grenadiers had achieved it ; but 
when it was considered that this astonishing victory was won by a 
General comparatively untrained in war, and that his soldiers were 
not only raw troops, but deficient in equipments, and even suffering 
for clothing, the wonder and admiration rose beyond limit. If the 
battle of Bunker Hill had shown what Americans could do in the 
first heat of patriotic enthusiasm, the battle of Trenton had proved 
what they were capable of, when driven to despair. Such a people 
were not to be despised ! 

The eff'ect on the colonists was equally wonderful. In twenty 
four hours, the whole tone of the nation changed. The spell of 
victory, which had hung around the royal banner ever since the 
scene of war had been transferred from the New England states, 
was now broken. Hope revived in patriotic bosoms. Men, who 
had lately doubted, became ashamed of their fears. The nation 
started to arms, as if a voice had been heard amid thunder and 
lightning, as of old from Sinai. Recruits poured into camp. About 
fourteen hundred regular soldiers, whose term of service was to 
expire on the 1st of January, agreed to serve for six weeks longer. 
All classes breathed hope and defiance. 

The bold incursion at Trenton struck sudden terror to the heart 
of the English army. Cornwallis, who had gone to New York, in 



79 



THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE; 



order to embark for England, retraced his steps, and once more 
assumed command of the forces near the Delaware. His first move- 
ment was to withdraw all his troops from the more exposed posts, 
and concentrate them at Princeton and towards New Brunswick. 
Thus the English army stood in attitude of defence, like a boxer 
just recovered from a staggering blow. 





BOOK III 



TO THE ALLIANCE WITH FRANCE. 




HE late disasters to the American cause 
had resulted principally from the want 
of a proper organization of the army. 
Had Congress listened to the remon- 
strances of Washington, and, taking 
advantage of the popular enthusiasm 
after the battle of Bunker Hill, enlisted 
recruits for the war, a force of thirty 
thousand men could easily have been procured, not liable to be dis 
solved by reverses, or by the abatement of the momentary excite- 
ment. The army would have been composed of disciplined and 
veteran soldiers, who could have been relied on in every emergency: 
whereas now it was made up chiefly of six or twelve months 
militia, with whom a general could not venture on any delicate 
mancEuvre in the crisis of battle. All the disasters following the con 
10 G 73 



74 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

test on Long Island may be traced to the neglect of this advice of 
Washington. 

It was in the very darkest hour of the Revolution, just before the 
surprise at Trenton, that Congress awoke to a sense of its mistake, 
and endeavored to redeem the cause by appointing Washington 
dictator for six months, giving him power to remove all officers 
beneath the rank of brigadier. Meantime to prove that submission 
was still far from its thoughts, it instructed the commissioners in 
Europe, Dr. Franklin and Silas Deane, to renew their protestations 
at the courts of France and Spain, and to assure those powers that 
the colonies, notwithstanding their late defeats, would continue the 
war at all hazards. The commissioners were also instructed to en- 
deavor to draw his most Christian Majesty into the war by the most 
liberal promises. Half the island and fisheries of New Found- 
land were ofi"ered as a bribe, and afterwards, all the possessions in 
the West Indies that might be conquered during the contest. Agents 
were also sent with representations to the courts of Berlm, Tuscany 
and Vienna. The choice of Dr. Franklin as one of the deputies 
abroad was a happy thought : his reputation for science, his philoso- 
phic character, his simple mode of life, and his venerable age made 
him the fashion in Paris ; and assisted, not a little, in bringing about 
the subsequent treaty of amity with the Court of France. 

Meantime Washington resolved to follow up the surprise at Tren- 
ton with another blow. He had, on the evening of the victory, 
retired across the Delaware. His prisoners, the next day, were 
marched ostentatiously through Philadelphia, in order to raise the 
drooping spirits of the citizens. Having done this, he re-crossed, in 
the course of a few days, to Trenton, intending to act in the offen- 
sive. The British, in the interval, had concentrated at Princeton ; 
but Cornwallis, receiving intelligence of Washington's return to New 
Jersey moved on Trenton, where he arrived on the morning of the 
2nd of January, 1777, leaving his rear guard at Maidenhead, a vil- 
lage half way between Princeton and Trenton. Washington, finding 
Cornwallis in such force, retired across the Assunpink creek, which 
s-.cirts the southern extremity of the town of Trenton, having first se- 
cured the bridge. The British, on this, attempted to pass the stream, 
•jut were thrice repulsed. A cannonade, on both sides, was kept 
up until dark, when a council was called in the American camp 
The peril of the little army was imminent. To wait the event ol 
whe next day's battle, against the overwhelming force of Cornwallis, 
was to ensure destruction : to retire across the Delaware, encumbered 
with floating ice, in face of a wary foe, was equally perilous. In 



BATTLE OP PRINCETON, 75 

this emergency, the bold design was adopted of falling on the 
enemy's line of communications, and thus carrying the war into the 
very heart of New Jersey. 

Accordingly, in the night, the regular fires being kept up, and 
sentinels posted, the army of Washington silently withdrew from 
the Assunpink, and taking a circuitous route to avoid Maidenhead, 
before morning was far on its way to Princeton. Here it fell in 
with two British regiments, when a sharp action ensued. The 
enemy fought with desperate resolution, thinking themselves sur- 
rounded, with no hope of escape. At last, the American militia 
wavered. Washington, on this, seizing a standard, galloped in front 
of his men, exposing his person to the fire of both armies. The 
example was electric. The retreating militia, opportunely succored 
by the veterans of Trenton, now returned to the charge, and the day 
was won. In this affair. General Mercer was mortally wounded. 
About one hundred of the enemy were slain, and three hundred 
taken prisoners. The Americans lost in all one hundred. A part 
of one of the British regiments escaped to Maidenhead ; the other 
retired to New Brunswick. 

Cornwallis, at early dawn, was awakened by the noise of firing 
in the direction of Princeton. Discovering that the enemy was no 
longer in his front, he instantly divined the stratagem of Washington, 
and ordered his troops to march with all haste in pursuit, alarmed 
for his communications. He used such expedition, that he arrived 
at Princeton almost as soon as the American rear-guard. Washing- 
ton now found himself again in imminent peril. Unable to compete 
with the forces of Cornwallis, no resource was left but a hasty 
retreat. Instead of retracing his steps, however, he pushed on to the 
Raritan. Cornwallis followed. Washington, finding his troops too 
few and feeble to maintain the war at present, retired to the hilly 
country of upper New Jersey, and took post at Morristown. On 
this, Cornwallis abandoned the pursuit and returned to New Bruns- 
wick, where he found his subordinate. General Matthews, removing 
in terror the baggage and stores. In a few days, Washington, 
receiving some slight accessions of strength, descended into the open 
country, where he so judiciously manoeuvred as, in a little time, to 
command the whole coast in front of Staten Island. Thus, the 
British army, after having overrun all New Jersey, now found itself, 
i|i face of an inferior foe, restricted to the two posts of New Bruns- 
\vick and Amboy, besides being cut off from all communication with 
New York, except by sea. 

This brilliant winter campaign changed the whole aspect of tht 



THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

contest. The patriots recovered their hopes and their enthusiasm 
the indifferent and timorous came out openly on the side of the conn 




LORD COKNWALLIS. 



try : and the loyalists, lately so elated, began to despond. Another 
fact added to the revulsion in popular feeling. The Hessians had 
signalized their supremacy in New Jersey by the greatest excesses, 
so that even many of the loyal inhabitants had become exasperated. 
From this period to the end of the conflict the people of New Jersey, 
at first comparatively lukewarm in the cause, were distinguished as 
the most earnest and decided supporters of the war. The epoch, of 
the battle of Trenton marked the turning point of the contest. The 
fortunes of the colonists had then reached their lowest ebb. After 
that period, though the cause fluctuated continually, there was, on 
the whole, a perceptible gain. The waves flowed and retreated ; 
but the tide steadily advanced. 



WASHINGTON AT MIDDLEBROOK. 77 

The spring of 1777, opened with favorable omens to the Ameri- 
cans ; for, as the mild weather advanced, recruits began to flock to 
Washington's camp. Howe, meantime, diverted his troops by 
attacking Peekskill, on the Hudson, and Danbury, in Connecticut, 
for the purpose of destroying stores : in both of these expeditions, he 
was comparatively successful. The Americans retorted by a descent 
on Sagg Harbor, where they burned a dozen British ships and took 
many prisoners. As yet the American General had not been able 
to penetrate the plans of his opponent for the ensuing campaign. 
One opinion was, that the British leader intended renewing his 
designs on Philadelphia : another, and to this Washington leaned, 
that he projected an ascent of the Hudson, to form a junction 
with Burgoyne, who was about to lead the contemplated expe- 
dition from Canada. This latter was certainly the true policy. 
By seizing the Hudson, and uniting with Burgoyne at Albany, 
or above that place, Howe would have cut ofi" the middle and 
southern states from New England ; and the prospect of ultimate 
success for the Americans, would in consequence have been greatly 
decreased. To be ready, however, for either movement on the part 
of Howe, Washington stationed a portion of his troops at Peekskill, 
posting the remainder in New Jersey. In this manner, if Howe 
moved on Philadelphia, he would find in front the forces of New 
Jersey, while those at Peekskill would descend and harass his right 
flank : if, on the other hand, he took the direction of Albany, the 
troops at Peekskill would be in front, and those of New Jersey on 
the flank. As a further resource, a camp for recruits was formed at 
Philadelphia, which, in an emergency, might furnish resources. 
Having made these admirable dispositions, Washington waited for 
Howe to take the initiative. 

The British General had been recommended by the ministry to 
ascend the Hudson and form a junction with Burgoyne : but Howe, 
exercising his discretion, determined to advance on Philadelphia 
instead. He thought it certain that Washington would hazard a 
battle, or retire ; in either case he felt sure of his prey. The capture 
of the capital, he hoped, would end the war, of which he would 
then reap all the renown. Accordingly he made demonstrations of 
marching on the Delaware. Washington, however, contrary to 
Howe's expectation, neither descended into the plains to give battle, 
nor hurried to the defence of Philadelphia ; but maintaining his old 
position on the heights of Middiebrook, prepared to cut ofl" Howe's 
communications. The British General accordingly retraced his steps, 
and began a series of manoeuvres to draw Washington from his 



78 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

position. Once he had nearly succeeded. Having made a pretence 
of retiring from Amboy to Staten Island, Washington fancied he was 
really about to retreat, and descended to assail him. Instantly 
a detachment under Cornwallis was sent to seize the late position of 
the Americans ; but Washington, timely informed of his error, hastened 
to retrace his steps, and reached his old camp in safety. 

Thus foiled, Howe resolved to abandon the idea of crossing New 
Jersey, and embarking his troops, to reach Philadelphia by sea. 
But, hoping to deceive Washington as to his real intentions, he 
feigned an invasion up the Hudson. Intelligence had just been 
received of the advance of Burgoyne to Ticonderoga, and speedily 
after of the fall of that place : so that, for a while, Washington gave 
credit to the supposed co-operation. In a few days, however, his 
sagacious mind penetrated the cheat ; when, dividing his army into 
several corps, he prepared to march at a moment's warning on the 
Delaware. He sent Congress word of the contemplated attack; 
exhorted the proper authorities of Pennsylvania, Delaware and New 
Jersey to collect militia near the threatened points ; and ordered 
watches to be kept at the capes of Delaware, to give early intimation 
of the appearance of the English fleet. On the 23rd of July 
the royal squadron and transports sailed from Sandy Hook. 
Washington, however, lest he should yet be made the victim of 
a stratagem, did not abandon his position in East Jerse^r. For 
a time, .too, the news received of the enemy's fleet was extremely 
conflicting. At first the ships were seen near the capes of Delaware, 
steering eastward : this alarmed Washington for the banks of the 
Hudson. Then they appeared again at the entrance of Delaware 
bay, but immediately vanished to the south : this inspired fears lest 
they should have gone to the Carolinas. At last intelligence was 
obtained of the arrival of the squadron in the Chesapeake ; this set- 
tled all doubts ; and hastily collecting his various corps, Washington 
advanced by quick marches to oppose the enemy at his landing. A 
month, however, had been wasted in these manoeuvres ; and it was 
the last of August before the English disembarked, which they did 
at the head of Elk river, in Maryland. The whole continent now 
stood gazing in silent awe as the two armies approached each other. 
A battle was inevitable. The destiny of America might hang on 
the result. 

While these events were transacting, two incidents happened in 
other quarters, Avhich we must pause to relate. General Sullivan, 
at the head of fifteen hundred American troops, made an attack on 
Staten Island; and though at first successful, was finally repulsed 



BATTLE OP BRANDTWINE. *J9 

with heavy loss. The other occurrence was the capture of Major 
•General Prevost, commanding the seven battalions of English 
troops which occupied Rhode Island. This officer slept at a farm- 
hotise not far from Narragansett Bay. At the dead of night he was 
taken out of his bed, by Lieut. Col. Bartan, at the head of forty men, 
and being carried to the whale-boats in which the party descended, 
was securely carried off. This bold exploit filled the country with 
applause, particularly as it afforded the Americans an officer of 
equal rank to exchange for General Lee. 

About the same period, the Marquis La Fayette arrived at Phila- 
delphia. He came to join the American cause as a volunteer. 
Very rich, of high rank, and supposed to have influence at the Court 
of Versailles, his appearance was hailed as an omen of an approach- 
ing alliance with France. He became a favorite with Washington, 
who saw in his enthusiasm, in his refusal to accept pay, and in the 
fact that he had torn himself from the arms of a young and lovely 
wife, powerful reasons for regard and affection. Nor to the close 
of life, was there any diminution of the mutual love and friendship 
of the two heroes. 

When Washington arrived in the vicinity of the Chesapeake, he 
discovered that the British had already effected a landing. After 
some manoeuvres, he took post behind the Brandywine, at a spot 
called Chad's Ford, and prepared to dispute the passage of the 
enemy ; Congress and the public loudly demanding a battle to save 
Philadelphia. On the 1 1th of September the British advanced to the 
attack. The country in the vicinity of Chad's is undulating, and about 
six miles above the ford, the river divides into two forks. Howe 
resolved to leave Knyphausen with a portion of the army to make 
a feint of assailing the Americans in front, at the ford ; while, with 
a much stronger body, he and Cornwallis gained the rear of Wash- 
ington by crossing the Brandywine higher up. The stratagem was 
eminently successful. The British passed the Brandywine above 
the forks, without the knowledge of the Americans ; the videttes of 
the latter not being pushed so far, and the countr^^ people being too 
disaffected to give warning. Meantime, Knyphausen began t(y make 
repeated feints to attempt the passage at Chad's Ford. He first 
advanced his marksmen across the river, but the Americans forcing 
them back, he opened a furious cannonade, and made dispositions as 
if about to attack with all his troops. In this manner the morning 
passed. Washington was preparing to cross the river, and assail 
Knyphausen, when, about noon, he received intelligence that Corn- 
wallis had crossed the Brandywine, and was coming down in his 



80 



THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 



rear. Already, in fact, long columns of dust, winding in serpentmn 
course among the distant hills, announced his route. «. 

The moment was critical. Washington, if he disregarded the enemy 
m his rear, might precipitate himself on Knyphausen in front ; but, 
by such a movenient, he would abandon the right bank of the 
Brandy wine to Cornwallis, and throw open the route to Philadel- 
phia. No resource, therefore, was left but to turn and face the 
Marquis. Accordingly Washington wheeled the brigades of Sullivan, 
Stephens and Stirling to oppose Cornwallis, who was said to be 
approaching Birmingham meeting-house, two miles in the rear 
Then, leaving Wayne with a strong corps at Chad's Ford, he him- 
self, with two divisions, accompanied by General Greene, took a 
position half way between Chad's Ford and the meeting-house, to 
be ready to assist either wing as occasion might require. Having 
done this, he waited anxiously for the result. 




^^^ --^ 



BIRMINGHAM MKETING-HOUSE 



When Sullivan, with his three divisions, reached Birmingham 
meeting-house, he found Cornwallis drawn up on the declivity of a 



BATTLE OF BRANDYWINE. 81 

lofty eminence opposite, the scarlet uniforms of his troops reUeving 
the deep green of the hill-side, on which they swarmed, as a specta- 
tor has written, hke bees. The British army had just finished its 
noontide meal, and as Sullivan's corps came in sight, the blare of 
trumpets sounded along the line, and the whole of that splendid 
army put itself into motion. The distance from the summit of the 
hill on which the meeting-house stands, to the top of the neighbor- 
ing elevation, following the descent into the valley, and the opposite 
rise, is nearly a mile ; so that some time necessarily elapsed before 
the British troops came within range. During this period the 
spectacle they presented, as they slowly descended one hill and 
began to ascend the other, was truly magnificent. They moved in 
a solid mass, forming a compact and extended front, along which 
ran the glitter of their polished arms, and over which their banners 
floated lazily in the sultry breeze. The action began on the American 
right, and soon extended along the whole line. Both wings speedily 
gave way, the disorder beginning on the right. Sullivan's own divi- 
sion breaking, he hurried, flushed and excited, to animate the centre. 
With this the contest was longer and fiercer. Occupying the low stone 
wall of the grave-yard which crowns Birmingham hill, the Americans 
poured in a steady fire on the advancing foe ; but fresh troops dashing 
up the hill, and the victorious British hastening from the rout of the 
other divisions, to turn their flank, they were forced to retreat. The 
English now poured densely over the brow of the hill. The Ameri- 
cans fled through an orchard in their rear, where the carnage was 
dreadful. The retreat might have become a rout, but for the arrival 
of Greene, who opening his columns to sufl'er the fugitives to pass, 
closed up immediately after, and continued to face the foe. 

In the meantime Knyphausen, finding the enemy in his front 
weakened, forded the river and advanced to attack Wayne. After 
a brave resistance the latter fell back, leaving his artillery in the 
hands of the enemy. In his retreat he passed in the rear of Greene, 
who, posted in a defile between two woods, ploughed the enemy's 
advancing columns with artillery, and was the last to retire. The 
army fell back to Chester, where, for a whole day, fugitives con- 
tinued arriving, many having escaped by lanes and circuitous ways. 
The British spent the night on the battle-field. The loss of the 
Americans was over a thousand ; that of their opponents less than 
five hundred. In this conflict the Virghnans and Pennsylvanians 
fought with particular intrepidity; and Count Pulaski, a Pole, at 
the head of the light-horse, charged in the most gallant manner 

11 



82 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

Here La Fayette saw his first engagement, and received a wound 
in his leg. The defeat may be attributed to ignorance of the move- 
ments of CornwaUis, arising chiefly from the want of a sufficient 
number of weh mounted videttes. 

The news of this disaster was received with various emotions in 
Philadelphia. The disaftected openly rejoiced : the patriots were 
struck with consternation. Congress, however, remained firm. That 
body voted reinforcements to Washington, who, after a few da^^s 
repose for his troops, took the field again to seek another encounter 
with the enemy. The two armies came in sight of each other on 
the 16th, on the Lancaster road, a few miles from Philadelphia ; but 
a heavy rain beginning to fall, the American muskets were rendered 
useless and much of their ammunition was spoiled. Washington 
was compelled, by this accident, to retreat to Yellow Springs, and 
thence to Warwick Furnace, on French creek. He sent Wayne, 
hovrever, to harass the march of Howe. But a detachment of British 
troops, led by General Grey, surprised this General in the night, 
mid he only escaped with the loss of one hundred and fifty men. 
This is the affair usually known as the Paoli m.assacre. Howe now 
advanced on Philadelphia, by the way of Germantown, Congress 
adjourning on his approach to the town of York in Pennsylvania ; 
and on the 26th of September, Lord CornwaUis, with the van of the 
British army, marched into the capital, to the great joy of the disaf- 
fected. The rest of the English force, however, remained encamped 
at Germantown, six miles from the city. Vv'ashington took post at 
Sldppack creek, about fourteen miles distant. 

The first object of Howe, on finding himself in possession of Phi- 
ladelphia, was to subdue the forts commanding the Delaware below 
that city, and to remove the obstructions with which the Americans 
had filled the river. The forces detached for this purpose necessarily 
weakened the army at Germantown. Aware of this, Washington 
resolved to attempt surprising it. The village of Germantown is 
built on a single street, occupying both sides of the road for about 
two miles. The English army lay very nearly in the centre of the 
town, being encamped behind a lane that crosses the street at right 
angles in the vicinity of the market place. About a mile from this 
spot, and at the head of the village, is a large stone house known sls 
Chew's mansion. More than a mile higher up is Mount Airy 
where the English had a picket guard. It was about dawn on the 
morning of the 4th of October when Washington drove in this picket, 
and pushing on, dashed for the centre of the town. Sullivan, com- 
manding the right wing, marched through the fields to the right of 



BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN. 83 

the village street ; Wayne, leading another division, passed to the left ; 
and Greene, with a strong corps, making a circuit on the left of 
Wayne, followed a road which entered the town just below the 
market place. The morning was foggy, so that the soldiers could see 
but a few paces before them. At first this favored the attack ; and 
the British fell back hurriedly and in affright. Sullivan, advancing 
with headlong speed, soon reached the centre of the town. Here all 
was in comparative confusion on the part of the enemy. The British 
troops, hastily aroused, were forming in the lane in front of their 
encampment. Howe, imagining himself surrounded, was gallopping 
bewildered to the point of danger : while the wildest rumors circu- 
lated among the soldiers, and even struck dismay to the hearts of 
their officers. Victory seemed in Sullivan's grasp. Suddenly a 
sharp firing was heard in his rear, when a voice among his soldiers 
exclaimed, that the British had cut them off; and at the same 
moment troops were seen advancing through the fog in front, their 
numbers magnified by the obscurity. A panic instantly ensued. 
Cries of alarm were heard on all sides. In vain Sullivan, riding 
among the men, assured them that the troops in front were a part 
of Greene's division : in vain couriers arrived to say that the firing 
behind arose from only a small party of the English who had thrown 
themselves into Chew's house : in vain the officers, ready to break 
their swords in mortification and rage, declared to the soldiers that 
they were running away from victory. Nothing could allay the 
panic. The men broke and fled. The British, by this time par- 
tially recovering from their alarm, seized the favorable moment and 
advanced with loud huzzas. The retreat became a rout. The enemy 
kept up a hot pursuit, and the American army was only saved by 
the timely thought of General Wayne, who, throwing up a hasty 
battery at White Marsh church, arrested the chase after it had con- 
tinued seven miles. In this battle the loss of the Americans was 
about nine hundred; that of the British six hundred. Although 
resulting in defeat, it had some of the advantages of a victory; for it 
induced Howe to withdraw most of his forces into Philadelphia. 
Washington retired to his old station at Skippack. 

Meantime Howe proceeded to the removal of the obstructions in 
the river Delaware, and to the reduction of the two forts which the 
Americans had erected immediately below Philadelphia. ' One of 
these. Fort Mifflin, was situated on the left bank of the Delaware at 
the confluence of the Schuylkill with the latter river : the other, 
Fort Mercer, occupied a bold bluff on the opposite shore, called Red 
Bank. On the 22nd of October the latter was assailed, by a com- 



84 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 




BATTLE OF RED BANK. 



bined attack from land and water. Count Donop, with twelve hun- 
dred men, advanced to storm the fort, which was defended by only- 
five hundred troops ; but was repulsed with a loss of four hundred, 
himself being mortally wounded. The Americans lost but thirty-two. 
The attack from the water was equally disastrous to the enemy, he 
losing in addition two of his frigates. The attempt to reduce Fort 
Mifflin was more successful, though not until after nearly a month' 
delay. On the 16th of November, the fort being no longer tenable, 
its little garrison of three hundred went over to Red Bank. This 
post, also, was soon after abandoned. 

Washington, receiving some reinforcements, left Skippack and 
took up a position at White Marsh, fourteen miles nearer Philadel- 
phia. His army was now fourteen thousand strong : and that of 
Howe was about the same number. But the latter, in discipline, 
equipments and materal, was infinitely superior. The two armies 
watched each other for some time, but Washington was not willing 
to risk an engagement on equal terms ; and Howe, with his usual 
prudence, shrunk from assailing the American General in his strong 
position. Finally Washington went into winter quarters, selecting 
for the purpose a spot called Valley Forge, a wide ravine on elevated 
ground, about sixteen miles from Philadelphia. The privations 
which he and his little army sufiered there we shall describe here- 



FALL OF TICONDEROGA. 85 

after In the meantime, after premising that Howe had gained little 
by the campaign except a change of quarters from New York to 
Philadelphia, let us turn to the north, where the most signal success 
had just crowned the American arms, and where the inhabitants, 
lately overcome by despair, were now dizzy with exultation. 

It had been a favorite scheme with the British ministry, from the 
beginning of the war, to invade the colonies from Canada, and by 
forming a line of posts along the Hudson, to cut off New England 
from the middle and southern provinces. It was in the New En- 
gland states that the soul and strength of the rebeUion was supposed 
to be : these colonies once overrun, the subjugation of the remain- 
ing, it was considered, would be easy. Accordingly, at the begin- 
ning of the year 1777, preparations were made for this invasion. A 
force of seven thousand men was raised, which General Burgoyne 
was selected to command. He was regarded as an officer of ability, 
having served with distinction in the continental wars : and he was 
not sparing of promises. The ministry were generous to a fault in 
supplying him with everything he asked. The plan of the cam- 
paign was arranged in London. Burgoyne, with seven thousand 
men, and the most splendid train of artillery ever seen in America, 
was to advance on Albany by way of Lake Champlain : while 
Colonel St. Leger, with two hundred regulars, a regiment of loyal* 
ists, and a large force of Indians was to penetrate to the same place 
by the route of lake Ontario and the Mohawk. As we have before 
intimated, General Howe was recommended to form a junction at 
the same place with Burgoyne and St. Leger; but a discretionary 
power being left him., he exercised it, as we have seen, by attacking. 
Philadelphia. 

The news of this contemplated invasion spread terror and alarm 
throughout all the eastern states, but especially on the frontiers, and 
in the fertile valleys of New York. General Schuyler, having the 
chief command in the northern department, exerted himself promptly 
and vigorously in this emergency ; but recruits came in slowly, and 
not in sufficient numbers for the crisis. His head quarters were fixed 
at Stillwater, where he labored to prepare means of resistance ; 
while to General St. Clair was deputed the command of Fort Ticon- 
deroga, where the first onset of the enemy was expected. On the 
2nd of July, Burgoyne, having ascended lake Champlain, made his 
appearance before this fortress, which he proceeded to invest, seizing 
and erecting batteries on Sugar Hill, an eminence overlooking the 
works. St. Clair was not prepared for the appearance of so large a 
force, nor had he supposed the height in question could be occupied ; 



«0 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

accordingly he called a council of war, in which it was resolved that 
the fort was no longer tenable, and that it should be evacuated. On 
the night of the 5th, the garrison, taking with them provisions for 
eight days, stealthily abandoned the place •, but a house accidentally 
taking fire, when the rear guard was about to leave, lit up the land- 
scape with the glare of day, and revealed the flight of the Americans, 
[nstantl}/ the British army was aroused, and a fierce pursuit began. 
At Skeensborough the Enghsh gun-boats overtook the American 
galleys and batteaux ; the former Avere captured ; but most of the 
latter achieved their escape. The van of the enemy came up with 
the American rear on the morning of the 7th, when a bloody con- 
flict began, maintained on the one side with the obstinacy of des- 
pair, on the other with the eagerness of victory. At last, the British 
being reinforced, the Americans gave way. In this sanguinary 
contest the latter lost about four hundred, killed and prisoners, with 
five hundred wounded, of whom many afterwards perished mise- 
rably in the woods for want of succor. The British lost less than 
two hundred. Of a thousand men, who composed his corps, War- 
ner reached the main army some days after with but ninety. St. 
Clair, with the body of the army, thus saved by the devotion of his 
rear-guard, after seven days of toil and exposure in the wilderness, 
reached Fort Edward, on the Hudson. 

Schuyler was already at this latter place, and busied himself im- 
mediately in preparations to retard the victorious enemy. He 
ordered trenches to be cut, the bridges to be broken down, and the 
defiles where Burgoyne would have to pass, to be obstructed by 
trees felled across them and interlaced. The cattle in the neighbor- 
hood were driven off. To add to the desolation the inhabitants 
deserted their homes, flying in affright before the approach of the 
dreaded foe, so that for whole days a traveller, in crossing from 
Ticonderoga to the Hudson, would meet nothing but ruined clear- 
ings, smoking crops, and a wilderness rendered more inhospitable 
by the destroying hand of man. 

The intelligence of the fall of Ticonderoga was heard with a 
thrill of horror by the country at large. In the popular mind the 
strength of St. Clair's garrison had been overrated, while of that of 
Burgoyne 's army, too shght an estimate had been formed. The 
suspicion of treachery was at first breathed against the unfortunate 
commander ; and even Schuyler came in for his share of oppro- 
brium. A : this day the charges of cowardice and venality against St. 
Clair are no longer entertained : but he is regarded as an incompe- 
tent commander, who either should have abandoned Ticonderoga 



FALL OF TICONDEROGA. 



87 



in time, or have held it out manfully. To Schuyler no censure can 
properly apply. He exerted himself vigorously in every emergency, 
and it was the measures he took which in fact led to the subsequent 




GENEKAL BURGOTNE. 



capture of Burgoyne. But unfortunately for him, he was unpopular 
with the New England states, and their clamors ultimately led to 
his removal ; and, that, too, at a crisis when the precautions he had 
taken to arrest the foe were on the point of being crowned with 
success. Another reaped where he had sown ; and, for a while, 
Gates wore the laurel that of right belonged to Schuyler. But pos- 
terity has revoked the sentence of his contemporaries, by restoring to 
the latter General the renown which was fairly earned by his skill, 
his labors, and his sacrifices. 

The numerous Indians accompanying Burgoyne's army increased 
the terror of the inhabitants. The massacre at Fort Henry, in the 
French war, was still remembered ; and the murder of Miss McCrea, 
which now occurred, seemed to forebode a repetition of such scenes. 
This unfortunate lady was killed in a quarrel between two savages; 
but rumor exaggerated the wantonness of this act, and thus the public 
mind was filled with horror and panic. 

The general consternation did not, however, subdue the spirit of 
Congress or paralyze the energies of Washington. The former 



THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

having its eye ever on the hope of an alliance with France, in 
structed its agents abroad to lay the blame on the imbecility and 
misconduct of St. Clair, and to assure the Court of Versailles that the 
Americans, so far from being discouraged, only waited an occasion 
to avenge their defeats. Washington exerted all his influence to 
expedite succors to Schuyler. General Lincoln, a man of great 
influence in New England, was despatched thither to encourage the 
militia to enlist ; General Arnold and Colonel Morgan, both cele- 
brated for headlong valor, were sent to join Schuyler. 

In England the news of the fall of Ticonderoga was received with 
unbounded expressions of dehght. Those who had opposed the war 
were silenced by the popular outcry; while the ministry were hailed 
as the asserters of the public honor. Success lent a temporary halo 
to the cause of oppression, and, in the exultation of the moment, the 
complete subjugation of America was regarded as now at hand. 
Yet how strange are the ordinations of fate ! At the very moment 
when, in England, these extravagant expectations were being 
indulged, the whole face of afl'airs in America had become suddenly 
changed : Burgoyne, so late the arrogant victor, was now a sup- 
pliant captive ; and the cause of Great Britain, but two short months 
before at the zenith of success, was now setting in darkness, and 
tempest, and despair. 

Although Ticonderoga fell on the 6th of July, it was the 30th of 
the same month before Burgoyne advanced to the Hudson. This 
delay was owing to the obstructions in the roads, and to his being 
compelled to take all his provisions with him. He subsequently 
remained at Fort Edward, from which the Americans had retired 
on his approach, until the 15th of August, engaged in bringing sup- 
plies from Ticondeioga. But his success was inconsiderable in this 
undertaking. The horses he expected from Canada had not arrived; 
he could with difliculty procure the comparatively small number of 
fifty pair of oxen; and, to add to his embarrassments, heavy and 
continual rains wore down the soldiers and rendered the roads im- 
passable. On the 15th, notwithstanding all his exertions, there were 
but four days' provisions in camp. He now resolved to send out a 
detachment to Bennington in New Hampshire, where he learned 
there was a depot of provisions belonging to the Americans. Colo- 
nel Baum was despatched accordingly on this service with a force 
of about six hundred men. Meantime, however. General Stark, of 
the New Hampshire militia, hearing of Baum's approach, marched 
with two thousand men, hastily collected, to meet the British. 
Baum, on learning the approach of Stark, halted before he reached 



THE SEIGE OF FORT SCHUYLER RAISED, 89 

Bennington and sent back to camp for reinforcements. Colonel 
Breyman, with five hundred men, was accordingly hurried off to his 
assistance. Before the arrival of the latter, however. Stark had 
stormed Baum in his entrenchments, and after a desperate conflict, 
n which Baum fell mortally wounded, had chased the enemy from 
the field. The militia dispersed for plunder, when Breyman came 
up and renewed the fight. Stark fortunately was reinforced, and 
the conflict raged until dark, when Breyman abandoned his baggage 
and artillery; and fled with the remnant of his force to the British 
camp. In this engagement the enemy lost about seven hundred ; 
the Americans but one hundred. Four brass field pieces, a thou- 
sand stand of arms, and nine hundred swords fell into the hands of 
Stark, a supply very opportune at the crisis, and which furnished 
many of the weapons subsequently used at Saratoga with such eftect 
against the foe. 

While Burgoyne had been thus advancing into the heart of New 
York, St. Leger, with the other division of the royal army, had 
marched from lake Ontario to the Mohawk, where, on the 3rd of 
August he laid seige to fort Schuyler with an army of sixteen hun- 
dred men, composed of British, Canadians, Tories, and Indians. Col. 
Gansevort, who, with six hundred men occupied the post, on being 
summoned to surrender, replied, with the heroism of an ancient Ro- . 
man, that he would defend it to the last. Meantime Gen. Herkimer, 
on the approach of the British, hastened to raise the militia of the 
county of Tryon and fly to the succor of Gansevort ; but marching 
without sufficient circumspection, he fell into an ambuscade of Bri- 
tish and savages, and was defeated, with the loss of his own life and 
of four hundred of his men. The victory of the Indians was accom- 
panied by all the horrors of their mode of warfare : they slaughtered 
the suppliant and the resisting alike, and after the battle even but- 
chered the prisoner* taken by their English allies. The tradition of 
that terrible day still survives in the valley of the Mohawk, and the 
listener shudders as he hears the tale. 

The whole of Herkimer's force would have fallen but for a 
diversion in his favor by the garrison, a party of whom made a bold 
sortie on the British camp, which they rifled, and then returned to 
the fort. The British, however, avenged themselves b)^ resuming 
the siege with greater vigor than before. In this emergency Colonel 
Willet left the fort at dead of night, passed stealthily through the 
enemy's camp, and traversing pathless woods and unexplored 
morasses for the space of fifty miles, reached the confines of civili- 
zation, and raised the country to the relief of the leagured place. In 

12 H* 



90 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

this emergency Arnold was despatched to Fort Schuyler. On his 
approach the Indians began to be alarmed, and their terror being 
heightened by a report that Schuyler had totally defeated Burgoyne, 
they resolved to abandon St. Leger, and return to their own 
country. In vain the British commander besought them to stay : 
they were immoveable ; and in consequence, on the 22nd of August, 
St. Leger found himself forced to raise the siege. He retired with 
great precipitancy, leaving his tents, artillery and baggage in the 
hands of the garrison. Arnold, having succeeded in his purpose, 
returned to Camp ; while St. Leger retired in confusion to Montreal, 
whence he soon set forth to Ticonderoga to unite himself with 
Burgoyne. 

Thus one part of this well digested plan of invasion had already 
failed : a combination of circumstances was insidiously preparing 
the ruin of the other. Prominent among these was the want of 
provisions for Burgoyne 's army, to which we have already alluded. 
This difficulty increased, instead of diminishing, as days and weeks 
progressed. The failure of his effort to relieve himself by the cap- 
ture of the stores at Bennington, threw a momentarily increasing 
cloud of despondency around his hopes. He began, for the first 
time, to appreciate the difficulty of his enterprise. Instead of finding 
himself among a friendly, or even indifi'erent population, he disco- 
vered that every step he took only led him further into the heart of 
a hostile community, from which he could draw neither encourage^ 
ment nor sustenance, and where every man he met was irreconci- 
lably his foe. In such a country the capture of its forts was of little ' 
real benefit to the victor. He conquered only what he held. Though 
the country people every where fled before him, yet, as fast as he 
advanced they closed behind his track, hke a returning tide. Thus 
hemmed in, with an armed enemy in front, and a hostile population 
gathering in his rear, Burgoyne knew scarcely which way to turn : 
his stout heart failed, his boastful confidence began to desert him, 
and foreboding shadows of the future already haunted his sleep, and 
deprived him, during the day, of his habitual cheerfulness. 

To add to the peril of his situation, the communications with his 
rear were now threatened. General Lincoln, having received a force 
of two thousand militia, instead of advancing directly to the succor 
*()f the American army, conceived the more efiective plan of attack- 
ing Fort Ticonderoga and the other posts in Burgoyne's rear. His 
enterprise was successful in every thing except the capture of the 
two fortresses of Independence and Ticonderoga. Mount Defiance, 
Mount Hope, two hundred batteaux, several gun boats, an armed 



mjRGOYNE ENCAMPS ON THE HUDSON. 



H 




BTJEGOYNE'S ENCAMPMENT ON THE BANKS OF THE HUDSON. 



sloop, and two hundred and ninety prisoners were the fruits of this 
happy thought. Besides this, one hundred American prisoners were 
set at Uberty. In this manner mesh after mesh of the net destined 
to enclose Burgoyne, was drawn around the unhappy English 
General. 

At last he resolved to cross the Hudson and bring his enemy to 
battle, when, in case of a victory, the road to Albany would lie open, 
and supplies be more easy to be obtained, We cannot avoid regard- 
ing this as a military blunder. By advancing along the eastern shore 
of the Hudson, Burgoyne would have kept that river between him 
and the Americans, or, in case they attempted to cross it, he could 
have utterly routed them in the endeavor. By crossing to the 
western bank he lost these advantages. But his fate was upon, 
him. An inevitable destiny led him forward. Accordingly, towards 
the middle of September, he threw a bridge of boats over the Hud- 
son, and passing his army across, encamped on the heights of Sara- 
toga, the Americans being at Stillwater, about three miles below 



S2 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

In the approaching trial of strength between the two armies, the 
Americans were as confident as the British were dispnited : in this 
respect the two sides had changed situations since the battle of 
Bennington. Every day saw new accessions of strength to the 
Americans, for the harvest being ended, the militia began to poui 
into camp : and to add to the popular enthusiasm. General Gates 
had just been appointed to succeed General Schuyler, and his name 
alone, especially with the New England soldiers, was considered a 
sure presage of success. Gates arrivecj in camp on the 21st of 
August. Though Schuyler felt keenly his own removal, and com- 
plained of it eloquently in his letters to Washington, he still had too 
much patriotism to suffer it to cool his ardor, but nobly seconded 
his more fortunate rival with all his powers. 

On the 19th of September, Burgoyne advanced to offer battle to 
the Americans. His right wing, commanded by himself, rested on 
the high grounds that rise from the river; the left wing, undei 
Generals Phillips and Reidesel, occupied the great road and meadows 
by the river side. The American army drew up in the same order 
from the river to the hills, Gates taking command of the right, and 
giving the left to Arnold. Between the two armies, and in front of 
the British right, Bnrgoyne had thrown forward his Indians. 
Colonel Morgan, with the American light horse, supported by the 
American light infantry, charged the savages, who fell back, but 
being supported, they rallied, and with hideous yells drove Morgan 
back to his original position. Burgoyne now extended his right wing, 
in order to overlap Arnold, and reach that General's flank and rear. 
But by one of those coincidences which sometimes happen amid the 
turmoil and smoke of battle, Arnold, at this very moment was engaged 
in a like manoeuvre against Burgoyne. The intervening woods hid 
the hostile troops from sight, until they came suddenly on each other 
at a turn in the road. Surprise for a moment checked both parties, 
when, the charge sounded, and they rushed madly on each other. 
The Americans, after a desperate conflict gave ground. Arnold, 
finding the right flank of the enemy too strong for him, now made a 
rapid movement, and threw himself on the left flank of the same 
wing. His onset was terrible. The British line wavered before it 
Encouraging his men with voice and example, he raged in their 
front, the hero of the day. His intention was to pierce the enemy's 
line, and cut off the right wing from the rest of the British army 
To prevent this, successive reinforcements were poured on the 
threatened point ; but in vain : Gates hurried up new regiments 
to back Arnold ; and the whole interest of the struggle was concen 



BATTLE OP BEHMUS HEIGHTS. 93 

Crated in this one place, where victory seemed about to declare for 
the Americans. For four hours the contest raged with unexampled 
fury. At last, night put an end to the combat. The royalists slept 
on their arms on the field of battle ; their opponents fell back. Both 
parties claimed the victory, the English, for having kept possession 
of the scene of strife, the Americans, for having checked the advance 
of the foe. All the moral results of a victory pertained to the latter 
however, and to them, therefore, we must award it. The army of 
Gates lost three hundred and thirteen in killed and wounded ; that 
of Burgoyne, at least six hundred, some writers say a thousand. 
Immediately after this battle, the Indian allies of Burgoyne, becom- 
ing dissatisfied, abandoned him, and their example was followed 
by most of the Canadians and Tories. 

The day after the battle of Stillwater, the English General 
advanced, and took a position within cannon shot of Gates. Both 
armies now occupied themselves in fortifying their respective camps. 
On the 21st of September, two days after the battle, Burgoyne 
received a letter from General Clinton, dated on the 10th, stating 
that he intended ascending the Hudson, and attacking Fort Mont- 
gomery, but that he could do no more. Bm-goyne had hoped that 
Clinton would advance to Albany, and could not conceal his 
despondency on receipt of this news. He instantly despatched 
emissaries to his brother General, with a full account of his difficul- 
ties, urging a speedy execution of the proposed diversion, and saying 
that he had provisions with which to hold out until the 12th of 
October. He waited until the 7tR of October for a reply, but 
received none. Had prudence, indeed, controlled him, he would 
have retreated immediately after receiving Clinton's letter ; but hope 
lured him on, while he shrank from the disgrace of a retrograde 
movement. Thus was he hurried forward to his melancholy- 
destiny. 

Not hearing from Clinton, Burgoyne resolved to attack the Ameri- 
can left, hoping to force a passage, which might be made available 
either for an advance or retreat, as circumstances should afterwards 
recommend. The battle that ensued is known in popular language 
as the battle of Behmus Heights. At the head of fifteen hundred 
men, led by himself in person, Burgoyne advanced to execute his 
movement ; but Gates instantly penetrating his design, despatched a 
strong corps to cut him off from the main army. The American 
detacament soon became engaged with the left of Burgoyne's. 
the contest extending along to the right. Gates now attempted to 
throw a body of troops into the enemy's rear, so as to prevent his 



94 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

retreat tO camp, Burgoyne perceiving this, sent his light infantry to 
form a second line^ and cover him as he fell back. He then began 
a retrograde movement. Arnold, with three regiments, instantly 
gave pm'suit. A terrible trial of skill and strength now ensued : 
the English struggling to reach their entrenchments, the Americans 
to cut them oif. Arnold was never greater than on that day. Gal- 
lopping fiercely to and fro, between his own troops and those of the 
enemy, he stimulated them, by his voice, and by his heroic courage^ 
to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. For a while, Burgoyne regarded 
the day as lost. General Frazer, his friend and counsellor, had fallen 
mortally wounded, while endeavoring to check the onset of Arnold. 
The entrenchments were still at some distance : the Americans 
threatened to reach them first. At last, Burgoyne abandoned his 
artillery, and leaving a frightful array of killed and wounded, shew- 
ing the path by which he had retreated, made a last, and successful 
efi'ort to gain the desired entrenchments. But even here he was not 
safe. Arnold still thundered in piursuit. The American General, 
fired with the resistless fury and courage of another Achilles, 
came raging to the front of the lines, and without pause, and amid ^ 
tempest of grape drifting into his face, dashed up to the assault 
Everything yielded before him. He had almost carried the works 
by storm, when a shot struck him in the leg, and he was forced to 
retire from the field. His men, however, still possessed with the 
fury to which he had excited them, continued the attack. Night at 
last fell, and checked the sanguinary struggle. 

In another quarter the enemy was even more unfortmiate. While 
Arnold had been driving the British in terror and haste before him, 
Colonel Brooks, with a corps of Americans, had turned the extreme 
right of Burgoyne's encampment, and carried the works there by 
storm, notwithstanding a desperate resistance made by Colonel Brey- 
man, who occupied them with the German reserve. Breyman, 
himself, was mortally wounded. The tents, artillery, and baggage 
fell into the hands of the Americans, who established themselves in 
the entrenchment, and there spent the night. And as the guards 
went their rounds in their new possession, they saw, near at hand, 
the dark shadows of the English host, and eagerly longed for the 
dawn to renew the fray. 

But Burgoyne feared to tempt fortune again. He had suffered 
terribly, and lost immense stores. His troops were disheartened. 
His position was no longer tenable. Accordingly, in the night, he 
changed his ground to the heights in his rear. In this strong post 
Gates refused to attack him, for he now thought himself certain to 



I 



BURGOYNE RETREATS TO SARATOGA. 



95 



reduce his enemy by starvation: he accordingly confined himself on 
the 8th to a distant cannonade, which the enemy warmly returned. 
Tt was during this fire, that General Lincoln was wounded in the leg 
Several s,<:irmishes took place in the course of the day. Towards 
evening, the British proceeded, with melancholy hearts, to the obse^ 
quies of General Frazer. With slow steps and sad countenances, 
his late associates followed him to the grave: their regret for the 
deceased being combined with anxious solichude for their own 




BPKGOTNE'S RETEEAT to SAEA.TOGA. 



future. To add to the terrors of the scene, the American batteries, 
during the whole evening, filled the darkness with their blaze and 
roar ; while at every moment the balls fell around, and spattered 
earth in the faces of the chaplain and spectators. 

Gates now made preparations for throwing a strong corps into 
Burgoyne's rear. The latter, perceiving this, abandoned his hospital 
to the mercy of the victor, and retreated to Saratoga, nine miles dis- 
tant, where he arrived on the 10th. A drenching rain pursued him 
nearly the whole way. Gloom and despondency, from this hour, 



96 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

made a prey of the British army. The men had lost all confidence 
in themselves: they were half-starved, wet through, womided 
and sore. Their leaders saw no gleam of hope, and met each other 
with melancholy looks. There was no word of Clinton. The 
Americans already had seized the fords in the rear, so that escape 
was impossible. The net had been drawn closer and closer, until 
now the victim scarcely found room to turn ; every avenue blocked 
up, every hope of succor gone, Burgoyne was a subject of pity, 
rather than of hate. With secret tears, his proud soul saw all his 
visions of glory vanished ; and no resource left but a step only less 
bitter than death itself. This was a surrender, now inevitable. 
Accordingly, on the 1 3th, a communication was opened with Gates, 
and on the 16 th, terms of capitulation were signed. The English, 
to the number of nearly six thousand, surrendered themselves pri- 
soners of war. By the stipulations of the articles the British were 
to march out of their encampment with the honors of war : to stack 
their arms by command of their own officers, who were to retain 
their side-arms : the men not to serve against the United States until 
exchanged, though to be permitted to embark for England or 
Germany. 

These were more favorable terms than would have been granted, 
had not Gates heard of the advance of Clinton to Fort Montgomery, 
and the fall of that place, which had taken place a few days before. 
In fact, the British General had reduced all the forts on the lower 
Hudson, and was now opening the way to Albany : but on hearing 
of Burgoyne's surrender, he retired again to New York. Thus ended 
the expedition from Canada, on which the British ministry had 
placed such reliance. On the day of the capitulation, the American 
army numbered fifteen thousand men, of whom nearly ten thousand 
were regulars : the English five thousand, seven hundred and nine- 
ty-one, the remains of the splendid army of nine thousand, with which 
Burgoyne had left Ticonderoga. Even of these, but three thousand 
five hundred, were capable fighting men. 

The fall of Burgoyne was received with a burst of enthusiastic 
applause from one end of the confederacy to the other. The popu- 
lar mind, overlooking the true causes of his defeat, attributed all to 
the genius and courage of Gates, who was immediately lauded as 
the first of living Generals. No reward was considered too great for 
him. Congress voted him immediately a gold medal. Gates suiFered 
himself to be carried away by this extravagant popularity. Of 
unequal mind, he became too exhilirated by success, as in defeat he 
was too depressed : he began now to form the loftiest ideas of his own 



AMERICAN ARMY AT VALLEY FORGE. 97 

capacity and merits, grew over-confident, trusted too much to the 
terror of his name, and despising prudence and foresight, brought 
on himself at no distant day, defeat, humihation and ruin. 

With far different sentiments was the news of Burgoyne's defeat 
received in England. Consternation seized even the warmest advo- 
cates of the war ; all foresaw that France would now ally herself 
to the colonies. The middle ranks, heretofore almost unanimous in 
support of the ministers, became alarmed at the prospect of a pro- 
tracted war and an increase of taxes. The minister himself saw 
that the cause was virtually lost, and hastening to the king tendered 
his resignation. In that crisis, George the Third had it in his power 
to have averted the further horrors of war, the increase of his peo- 
ple's burdens, and the execrations with which impartial history 
must load his name. But instead of listening to the remonstrances 
of Lord North, he laid his commands on that nobleman to remain 
in office and prosecute the war. Never was a more obstinate man 
than the then sovereign of Great Britain : never one possessing 
higher notions of kingly prerogative, or more at heart a tyrant. The 
minister to his own disgrace, consented. For a period of four more 
years, blood and havoc devastated America ; of all which the awful 
responsibility rests on the head of the monarch. Is it going too fai 
to assert that in the miseries of his future life : in the ingratitude of 
his heir, in the commotions arising from the French revolution, and 
in his own subsequent blindness and insanity, a retributive Provi- 
dence worked out, in part, his punishment ? 

The close of the year 1777, found tlie British army comfortably 
quartered in Philadelphia, while the Americans lay at Valley Forge 
enduring every inclemency of the season. To this latter place Wash- 
ington had retired from White Marsh, his troops frequently tracking 
the ground with blood from their bare feet. At Valley Forge they 
constructed rude log huts, in which they braved one of the most icy 
winters on record \ sleeping usually without beds, blankets, or even 
straw. But few of the men had a whole garment : half a shirt waa 
more frequent than a whole one : overcoats were almost entirely 
wanting. To add to their sufferings provisions became scarce. The 
neighboring farmers, attracted by the gold given in exchange for 
their products by the British, while the Americans had nothing to 
offer but continental money, constantly depreciating in price, flocked 
to Philadelphia ; and the army at Valley Forge might have starved 
but for the energy of Washington, who, exercising the dictatoria. 
powers conferred on him by Congress, seized the necessary provi- 
wons by force, and continued thus to supply his camp until, through 
13 I 



fiS 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 



the exertions of the commissary department, succors were brougnt 
from Connecticut and other places at a distance. The norrors of the 
winter were increased by a contagious fever, which, arising origi- 
nally from scarcity of food and clothing, broke out in the camp and 
daily swept numbers to the grave. It is computed that of seventeen 
thousand men, the numerical force of the army, there were at no 
time during this awful winter, more than five thousand fit for duty. 




ENCAMPMENT AT VALLEY FORGE. 



So alarming a condition of things, if known to its full extent by 
Howe, would infallibly have brought him out from his quarters ai 
Philadelphia to attack Washington. But the latter, by keeping 
parties actively employed in harassing the outposts of the British, 
and by circulating exaggerated stories of his strength, continued to 
alarm the prudence of the English commander and ensure repose 
for his own harassed troops. 

But Washington had not only to combat distress in camp, and 
keep a wary eye on a powerful foe without : domestic intrigue in 
his own army, and even in his military family, was busying herself 
to ruin him in the estimation of the people. From the beginning of 
the war there had been a party in Congress, chiefly New En- 
glanders, who viewed with jealousy the elevation of a Virginian to 
the supreme command ; and to these were now added a knot of 
discontented military spirits, who complained loudly of what they 
called the criminal inactivity of Washington, and, under the guise 
of seeking to advance the interests of the country by the substitution 
of a more able chief, intrigued in reality to advance themselves 
Among the most prominent of these men were Generals Conwav 



RESIGNATION OF HOWE. 99 

and Mifflin, the former a foreigner, the latter a Pennsylvanian. 
Gates was the person they aimed to place in the office of commander 
in chief. The latter was secretly a friend to the intrigue ; and 
hoped that his late victory would smooth the road to his elevation. 
Among other base plots of this faction, was one intended to separate 
La Fayette from Washington ; and for this purpose they procured 
Congress to project, without consulting the General, another expe- 
dition against Canada, the command of which was to be given to 
the Marquis. The plot failed, however, and the enterprise wa& 
abandoned. The machinations of these bad spirits coming to light,- 
the popular voice broke out into such loud expressions of indigna- 
tion, and the esteem of Washington among the best citizens, was 
found so much to exceed their belief, that the conspirators abandoned 
their scheme in chagrin. Happy for the cause of independence was 
this failure, as the subsequent incompetency of Gates proved. There 
is no part of Washington's career which exhibits his character in a 
nobler aspect than his manly and high minded conduct during this 
crisis : though conscious of the injustice of Congress, he was too 
elevated in soul to allow irritation or anger to affect his conduct ; 
but serene and high, he bore himself above the petty weaknesses 
of our frail human nature, continuing in all things to exercise his 
duties as if nothing base or ungrateful had been plotted against him. 

On the contrary, it was during this very period, that he exposed 
himself to the animadversions of Congress, by beseiging their doors 
with letters and remonstrances in favor of awarding half pay for life 
to the officers who should serve during the war. He was actuated 
to this course by a sincere conviction of its justice. Many of the 
best officers had no income but their pay, and as this was received 
in depreciated continental bills, they did not enjoy enough to support 
themselves, much less their absent families. Civilians, in the mean- 
time, were making a comfortable subsistence in comparative ease. 
These considerations induced many to resign, the best and ablest 
being invariably the first disgusted. The evil threatened to disband 
the army. In this emergency Washington recommended the system? 
of half pay for life, as a premium on continuing in the army to the- 
end of the contest. This advice, though at first received with cold- 
ness, was finally adopted in part, and half pay for seven years was 
voted to the officers, to count from the close of the war. 

The spring of 1778 opened with the resignation of Howe, and 
his return to England, where, in consequence of current rumors 
against his incapacity, he demanded an enquiry mto his conduct in 
Parliament. The investigation ended in nothing. Howe's chief 



100 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

complaint against the ministry was that they refused to comply with 
his requisitions for troops, but persisted in the error, which he early 
warned them against, of believing that large numbers of loyalists 
could be recruited in America. The truth was, that ignorance, ob- 
stinacy and incapacity were, throughout this whole conflict, charac- 
teristics of the English Cabinet. Howe was right in his' strictures : 
he never had enough men for his purposes. That he was not a 
great military genius; that he frequently erred on the side of 
prudence ; are facts not to be denied. But the opinion of his merits 
rises when we consider that he effected more than any of his 
successors. In reality, America, from the stubbornness of the 
patriots, and the impracticable character of the country, was uncon- 
querable : it was not in human intellect to overcome her : hence the 
failures of the English Generals, and hence, too, the recriminations 
between the ministry and the disgusted leaders. 

On the 6th of February, 1778, treaties of amity and commerce, 
and of alliance with the United States, were entered into by the 
king of France. This event, long procrastinated, had been deter- 
mined finally by the capture of Burgoyne. Hitherto France had 
held back, secretly aiding the Americans, but refusing openly to 
espouse their cause : her wish being to strengthen herself for a war 
if it should occur, and to avoid one unless a compromise between 
England and her colonies became impossible. On the 2nd of May 
Silas Deane arrived in Philadelphia with copies of the treaties. 
Congress immediately ratified them, amid the universal joy of the 
country. In the treaty of alliance it was declared that if war should 
break out between England and France, during the continuance of 
the one now existing with the United States, it should be made 
common cause : and that neither of the contracting parties should 
conclude either truce or peace with great Britain, without the formal 
consent of the other. Moreover, they mutually engaged not to lay 
down their arms, until the independence of the United States should 
have been formally, or tacitly, assured, by the treaty or treaties that 
should terminate the war. A separate and secret article reserved 
to the King of Spain the right to become a party to the treaty of 
amity and commerce, and to that of alliance, at such time as he 
should think proper. 

Not, however, to abandon all hope of accommodation, or rather 
as a blind to the country members, Lord North proposed in Parlia- 
. ment new terms of conciliation with America. He moved a resolu- 
tion tnat in future England would abandon the right to lay any tax 
or duty on the colonies, except such as was beneficial to commerce. 



TERMS OF CONCILIATION. 



101 




jCG.MNvT THE TKKAiV OK ALLlANCi; A L' I'AKIS. 



and it ouly to be collected under the authority of the respective 
provinces, and for their use and advantage. Five commissioners 
were appointed to treat with the colonies, with powers to suspend 
all laws passed since the 10th of February, 1763, and to grant 
armistices and pardons. The departure of these commissioners Avas 
hastened in consequence of the alliance with France. They arrived 
in America late in the spring, and immediately began to circulate 
copies of the conditions of compromise. Congress answered these 
papers by a report, which was ordered to be published with them. 
In this report the people were warned against this new and insidious 
attempt of England to destroy that union by which alone the liber- 
ties of America could be achieved. A resolution of Congress was 
appended, declaring that the withdrawal of the British forces, or the 
acknowledgment of the independence of the states, v/ere indispensa 
hie preliminaries to any treaty. This report and resolution were 
received with general applause. The alliance with France had 
"Convinced the most timid that success must eventually crown the 
V/fforts of the confederation. The lo^^alists began to waver : some 



102 thU war op independence. 

even came forward and took the oaths to the new government. The 
storm was already breaking away : the clouds rolled westward : and 
through the broken gaps, which momentarily increased, gleamed in 
the distance the star of peace. 

The French, almost immediately after entering into their tieaty 
of alliance, resolved to send a fleet to America ; and accr^rdingly, 
on the 13th of x\pril, the Count d'Estaing, with a large squadron, 
departed from France. The English ministry suspecting such a 
movement, and fearing that the French might embarrass Clinton by 
obtaining command of the Delaware, sent out instructions to him to 
evacuate Philadelphia and fall back upon New York. In conse- 
quence, on the 18th of June, the royal General abandoned forever 
the capital whose possession had cost so much blood. Expecting to 
find the population of New Jersey hostile, he took with him suffi- 
cient provisions for the whole retreat: this encumbered him with a 
long train of wagons, which rendered his progress necessarily slow. 
Washington, on receiving certain intelligence of this movement, 
broke up his camp at Valley Forge and began a pursuit. He was 
exceedingly anxious to attack the enemy, but his opinion in favor 
of a battle was over-ruled in a council of officers ; Lee, who had just 
been exchanged for Prescott, taking a prominent lead in opposition, 
and contending that the want of discipline among the Americans 
rendered the experiment too hazardous. Washington, however, 
followed the enemy cautiously, holding the power to give or refuse 
battle, as he chose. At last, on the 27th of June, the British army 
encamped at Monmouth. The heights of Middletown were but a few 
miles distant, and if Clinton once reached there, it would be impos- 
sible to attack him. In this crisis Washington resolved to give 
battle, notwithstanding the adverse opinion of his officers. 

The advanced division of the Americans had been confided to La 
Fayette, Lee having refused it ; but subsequently he changed his 
mind, and desired the command, which was generously yielded to 
him. Washington, on the evening of the 27th, gave him orders to 
attack the enemy on the ensuing day, unless there were powerful 
reasons to the contrary. Accordingly, on the 28th, Lee put his 
columns into motion to obey this command. The van of the British, 
led by Knyphausen, had started at day -break, but Clinton, with the 
rear, remained until eight o'clock on the heights where they had 
encamped the preceding night. In the meantime, Knyphausen had 
advanced some miles, and Chnton could just see his dark columns in 
the distance, the intermediate space being occupied by long trains of 
wagons toiling through the sandy plains. Clouds of dust hung over 



BATTLE OF MONMOUTH. 108 

the prosp(3ct, for the day was already intolerably hot, with scarcely 
the slightest breeze stirring. The design of Washington was to 
let Lee assail Clinton in the rear, while Morgan and Dickenson 
should attack his right and left flanks, in the hope to cut him ofi" from 
his baggage. But Clinton, penetrating this design, resolved to face 
on Lee, and make so vigorous an assault, that it would be necessary 
for the Americans to recall Morgan and Dickenson. The plan was 
well conceived, and executed with boldness. Wheeling on Lee, the 
British General advanced impetuously to the charge, his artillery 
and dragoons moving gallantly before him. Lee little expected to 
find Clinton so ready for the combat, or in such force ; neverthe- 
less, he began to form his line in order to receive the enemy. But 
at this moment, through a mistake, one of his subordinates, fell back 
with a portion of the troops, across a morass in their rear ; and Lee, 
already doubtful Avhether it was prudent to engage, suffered this 
incident to decide him, and began a retreat. His way lay along 
a valley, about three miles long and one wide, broken by woods, 
hillocks, and patches of swampy ground. He had already retired 
some distance, the British pursuing with animation, and yet he saw 
no position where he thought it advisable to make a stand. In fact, 
having been opposed to a battle from the first, he scarcely regretted 
that events had happened to justify his opinion. He still, there- 
fore, continued retreating. 

Washington, however, was in a situation exactly the reverse. He 
had recommended a battle : he had even brought one on against the 
opinions of his officers. His good name, in a measure, depended on 
success. Yet he had arranged his plans so skilfully, that he scarcely 
entertained a doubt of victory. On the first sound of firing, he hastened 
forward, at the head of the rear-guard, so eager to join the fray that 
he directed the soldiers to cast away their knapsacks. Suddenly, a 
horseman, covered with dust, his animal white with foam, dashed 
up, and announced that Lee was in full retreat. Astonishment and 
indignation flashed across Washington's countenance : for a moment, 
perhaps, he suspected treachery : plunging his spurs into his horse's 
sides, he galloped furiously forward. It was not long before he 
met Lee. Addressing that officer with anger, he demanded the 
cause of the flight. But instantly reflecting that the occasion was 
one for action, not for words, he proceeded to use his voice and 
example to check the retreat. It was necessary, first of all, to arrest 
the impetuous career of the British, and for this purpose, two oat- 
talions were placed on the left, behind a clump of woods, to receive 
the first shock of the enemy. Washington, after this, directing Lee 



104 ' THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

to make good his position at all hazards, hurried back to bring up 
the rear-guard. Lee, stung by the reproaches of the General, now 
made the most desperate efforts to rally his troops. He succeeded 
in part. For a while the English were checked. But the splendid 
grenadiers of Cornwallis, inflamed at this unexpected rebuff, now 
advanced to the charge, their polished muskets gleaming out, at 
broken intervals, through the dust and smoke of that sultry battle- 
field, like lightning playing in a thunder-cloud. Their loud huzzas 
rent the air as they charged at quick pace : and the Americans,, 
overpowered, once more began to retreat. 

The contest had now raged along an extent of three miles or 
more. The day had progressed to noon, and the air was hot and 
suffocating. Many of the men in both armies, had fallen dead from 
the heat. It was the Sabbath day, and all nature was quiet. The 
leaves hung motionless on the trees ; no laborers disturbed the fields 
with rural sounds : far away, along the line of the hills, the atmos- 
phere seemed to boil in the sun's vertical rays. Yet Washington, 
haunted by the thought of impending disaster, saw nothing of these 
things ; all was uproar and tumult in his soul, as on the battle-field ; 
strange contrast with the peacefulness of nature ! Riding at the 
head, he hurried the rear-guard forward with impetuous haste, and 
speedily met Lee, now unavoidably retreating. Instantly room was" 
made for the fugitives to pass to the rear, while the fresh troops 
were brought promptly and skilfully into action. One detachment 
was placed in a neighboring wood ; another, on a hill to the left ; and 
the remaining, and largest, in the centre, boldly facing the enemy. 
Lord Stirling, with a battery of guns, was sent to support the first, 
on the hill to the left. These dispositions had scarcely been made, 
before Greene arrived at the scene. He enjoyed the command of 
the right wing on that day, and had at first advanced considerably, 
but on hearing of Lee's retreat, had thought it prudent to fall back. 
Coming up opportunely at this crisis, he took a strong position on an 
11 elevation to Lord Stirling's right, and having with him Knox's bat- 

tery of artillery, he speedily unlimbered the guns, and began to open 
with vigor and accuracy on the foe. Lord Stirling's pieces seconded 
him from the other part of the field : and soon the ground shook 
with incessant explosions. 

The British had been checked in front by the very first of these 
dispositions. But, unwilling to yield the victory, they changed their 
point of attack, and attempted to turn the left flank of the Ameri- 
cans: repulsed here, they wheeled like a lion baffled in the ring, and 
assayed to surround the right of the foe ; but this was the period of 



THE BATTLE OP MONMOUTH. 



105 




SIR HENRY CLINTON. 



time when Knox had just planted his battery, and the well served 
pieces opened whole lanes through the masses of the foe. The dust 
and smoke combined, at this point of the strife, for a moment con- 
cealed the enemy from the Americans. All at once the canopy 
lifted and the British were beheld falling back. Washington saw 
it : his heart thrilled with anticipated victory: the moment had come 
when a vigorous stroke would turn the scales of battle. He ordered 
up Wayne, with his tried veterans, to charge the confused ranks of 
the enemy. Launching his infantry like a thunderbolt on the foe, 
that headlong officer carried dismay and terror every where before 
him. The story of the battle was reversed The British were in 
full retrea* 
14 



106 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

Clinton, however, still desperately disputing the fray, rallied his 
men on the same gromid where Lee had made his first halt. Here 
his flanks were covered by woods and deep morasses : while his 
front was defended by a ravine, crossed only by a single narrow 
pass. Washington followed him up, and the action began anew. 
But the day had been consumed in -this succession of terrible strug- 
gles, and night now approaching, the firing on both sides gradually 
ceased. In fact, the troops of either army were completely exhausted. 
At the welcome order to desist, the men flung themselves on the 
ground panting for breath, or eagerly sought water to allay their 
burning thirst. The night continued intensely hot. Scarcely a 
breath of air arose to cool the fevered Americans, and for hours 
they tossed on the ground courting sleep in vain. Slowly the dust 
settled once more on the plain. The moon, now in her fourth quar- 
ter, soon set, and for a while there was comparative darkness. Then 
the stars came out on a sky, again blue and unshrouded ; the dew, 
beginning to fall, rendered the atmosphere more refreshing ; and the 
soldiers, worn out by excitement, finally sunk one by one to slum- 
ber, Washington reposing in their midst, extended on the uncovered 
ground. 

Thus ended the most memorable battle of the revolution. It was 
fought within a few days of the summer solstice, and with the ther- 
mometer at ninety ; the only strife of a like character recorded in 
history. Its result was a virtual defeat of Clinton. At the first, 
victory had inclined decidedly for the British ; but the skill and 
resolution of Washington changed the fortunes of the day. The 
Americans, in this battle, lost sixty-nine killed, and one hun- 
dred and forty wounded: the British had nearly three hundred 
killed, besides an equal number wounded. But their principal 
diminution of numbers occurred, after the battle, when hundreds 
deserted to settle peaceably among the people they had come to 
conquer. 

On the morning succeeding the strife, Washington had resolved to 
renew the battle, but Clinton silently decamped in the night and 
gained the heights of Middletown. The American General thought 
nothing was to be gained now by a pursuit, and accordingly the 
English embarked in safety at Sandy Hook. On the 1st of July, 
Washington advanced to the Hudson, and took up a favorable 
position to watch the enemy now in force in New York. 

General Lee, of an irascible and revengeful mind, could ill-brook 
the expressions Washington had used towards him during the battle. 
He brooded over what he thought his injuries, and finally wrote 



INDIAN MASSACRES. 107 

two improper letters to his superior. The consequence was a court 
martial, which suspended him for one year. 

The remaining events of 1778, may be told in a few words. The 
Count d'Estaing arrived off Virginia early in July, when, being 
informed that Lord Howe had left the Delaware, he pursued that 
officer to New York. Here, however, he could not get his ships 
over the bar, owing to the want of water. He now, at Washing- 
ton's suggestion, proceeded to Rhode Island, to unite with General 
Sullivan in the reduction of the British army, six thousand strong, 
which was stationed at Newport. Sullivan was at the head of a force 
of ten thousand men, chiefly militia, and was exceedingly anxious to 
succeed in the enterprise, for though a laborious, he had been an 
unfortunate officer, and he now fancied he had a chance to achieve 
something brilliant at last. The 9th of August was selected for a 
combined attack on the British lines. But on that day, Howe 
appearing ofl" the harbor, d'Estaing put to sea to give him chase. 
Sullivan waited in vain for his ally's return until the 14th, when he 
laid siege alone to Newport. On the 19th d'Estaing made his 
appearance, in a shattered condition, the two fleets having been 
separated by a storm. He refused to assist further in the siege, and 
announced his design of going to Boston to re-fit. In vain La Fay- 
ette and Greene besought him to remain. He replied, that he was 
controlled by orders from home. He set sail on the 22nd. Siflhvan 
now found himself forced to abandon the siege, which he did in 
mortification, anger, and despair. He was pursued by the British, 
who met a repulse ; after which he was suffered to retire unmolested. 
He still, however, kept possession of the north end of the island. 
But, receiving intelligence from Washington that Lord Howe had 
sailed from New York with a large body of troops, intended to cut 
off" his retreat, he abandoned his works on the night of the 30th of 
September, and retired to the mainland. It was a fortunate move- 
ment, and not too early effected; for on the 31st, Clinton arrived 
with four thousand men. 

^ During this summer, occurred those devastations and massacres on 
the western border which will be ever memorable for their horrors. 
The Indians, excited by the English, made simultaneous incursions 
on the defenceless settlements, along the whole line of frontier from 
the boundery of New York to the confines of Georgia. In the 
south, their successes were partial : but from Virginia they were 
repelled by Colonel George Rogers Clarke. Their most terrible blow, 
however, fell on the beautiful and peaceful valley of Wyoming, 
situated on the north branch of the Susquehannah, in the upper part 



108 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 



of Pennsylvania. A body of savages and tories, the latter said to 
be the most numerous, headed by Colonel Butler, a Connecticut 
loyalist, descended suddenly on this settlement in the beginning of 
July, and laid waste the district Avith fire and sword. Unheard of 
cruelties were perpetrated on the miserable inhabitants. The heart 
sickens in reading the horrible details of that massacre. Harmless 
women were scalped and left to die in lingering agonies : children 
were inhumanly put to death in sport: a fort was fired and its 




KUINS OF WYOMmO. 



unhappy inmates burnt alive. Brothers refused brothei s mercy, but 
murdered them while suppliant. It is computed that of a population 
of three thousand souls very few escaped. When the relatives of the 
hapless victims visited the valley with reinforcements, they found 
only desolate ruins where once had been smiling houses, while for 
miles, before reaching the fort, the road was strewn with bleached 
and mouldering human bones. 

For this horrible massacre a terrible retribution was taken the 
succeeding year. An expedition, commanded by General Sullivan, 
proceeded up the Susquehannah, in the summer of 1779, as far as 
Wyoming, where it was joined by General James Clinton, from the 
Mohawk, with further reinforcements. The two Generals advanced 
up the Susquehannah, penetrating the territory of the Six Nations, until 
they reached a village called Newtown. Here the Indians had 
made a stand, assisted by some loyalists. Their position was 
defended by palisades and a rude redoubt, but the Americans 
charged with such fury, that the savages, after two hours fighting, 
fled on all sides. No further resistance was made by the Indians, 



STORMING OF STONY POINT. 109 

wno, abandoning their corn-fields and villages, hid themselres in 
inaccessible swamps, or retreated to the frontiers of Canada. Sulli- 
van's orders were to lay waste their country with fire and sword, 
which he proceeded to do. Forty villages, and one hundred and 
sixty thousand bushels of corn were destroyed : the whole of that 
fertile district, with its orchards and farm-houses, was reduced to a 
smoking ruin : and the savages, late its possessors, and who had 
there gathered around themselves all the appliances of civiUzation, 
were driven forth outcasts, to herd again with wild beasts, and to 
perish of want, exposure, and disease, during the ensuing winter. 
Thus do the miseries and cruelties of war re-produce themselves. 

During the year 1779, the same in which this terrible retaliation 
occurred, the armies of Washington and Clinton, though watching 
each other closely, engaged in no enterprise of magnitude. On 
the side of the American General, this apparent indolence was 
the result of the comparatively small force under his command, for 
the terms of a large portion of his troops were expiring, and enlist- 
ments progressed slowly. He was especially unwilling to hazard 
the loss of a battle with his insufficient forces, because he considered 
the cause gained already, unless, by his receiving some severe check, 
the drooping spirits of the enemy should be raised. On the side of 
Sir Henry Clinton, this inactivity was in part the result of a want of 
reinforcements, in part the remembrance of Monmouth, and in part 
a consequence of a design then forming to operate in the southern 
colonies. 

Meantime, however, the British General set on foot several pre- 
datory excursions, the principal of which was directed against the 
exposed coast of Connecticut. The command of this enterprise was 
bestowed on the notorious Governor Tryon. He took with him 
twenty-six hundred troops, and was absent about ten days, during 
which period he plundered and burnt East Haven, Fairfield, and 
Norwalk : and New Haven, which he pillaged, would also have 
been given to the flames, but for the gallantry of a party of students, 
headed by Captain James Fairfield. Another expedition was 
despatched against Porstmouth, in Virginia. That town was plun- 
dered, and partially destroyed, as well as Suffolk, Kemp's Landing, 
Gosport, and other places in the vicinity. About one hundred and 
fifty American vessels fell into the hands of the British, during the 
fortnight's stay made by their fleet on the coast. After being absent 
less than a month, this Vandal expedition returned to New York. 

Early in the spring the Americans had busied themselves with 
fortifying Stony Point and Verplank's Hill, commanding King's 

K 



110 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

Ferry, on the Hudson. The EngUsh resolved to attempt the seizure 
of these two posts, as in that case the Americans would have no 
way of communication between the middle and eastern colonies, 
unless by making a circuit of ninety miles up the Hudson. The 
enterprise was successful. Clinton now hastened to complete the 
works at both these places ; and had, before the end of June, ren 
dered them, as he hoped, impregnable. Washington, however, 
resolved to attempt their surprize. The delicate and perilous 
undertaking of storming Stony Point, the most difficult of the two, 
was entrusted to General Wayne. On the 15th of July, 1779, that 
officer, at the head of a detachment of picked veterans, cautiously 
approached the place, and, unperceived by the enemy, advanced to 
the assault about half-past eleven o'clock at night. The Americans 
marched in two columns, with fixed bayonets. The enemy soon 
discovered them through the gloom, and immediately opened a tre- 
mendous fire of musketry and grape ; yet nothing could daunt the 
impetuosity of the assailants : opening their way with the bayonet, 
they scaled the works, and the two columns met in the centre of 
the fort. The fury of the defence is shewn by the fact, that out of 
the forlorn hope of twenty, seventeen fell. General Wayne him- 
self was slightly wounded in the head at the beginning of the assault, 
but bravely continued to advance with his men. The English lost 
six hundred in killed and prisoners. The American loss was sixty- 
three killed, and forty wounded. The fortifications were now 
demolished, and the place abandoned. The attack meditated against 
Fort Verplanks, on the opposite side of the river, had not the same 
success, insurmountable obstacles having been encountered. 

This campaign was also distinguished by the surprise of Pawles 
Hook. With less than five hundred men. Major Lee, on the 18th 
of July, took this post with the loss of but half a dozen men, killed 
and wounded. About thirty of the enemy were killed, besides one 
hundred and sixty-one taken prisoners. The post being near the 
main body of the enemy ,was immediately abandoned : but the brilliant 
success of the enterprise exhilarated the spirit of the whole American 
army. About the same time. General Putnam, at the Horse Neck, 
in Connecticut, came near falling into the enemy's hands, and only 
.succeeded in escaping by gallopping his horse headlong down an 
almost precipitous descent of one hundred steps. In August of this 
year, an expedition, fitted out at Boston, to reduce the British post 
at Penobscot, failed in consequence of unnecessary delays, whicH 
afforded time for an English squadron to sail to the relief of tho 



THE WAR IN THE SOUTH. 



Ill 



post. Thus the year passed. No important enterprises were 
undertaken : no permanent advantages gained on either side. 

It may not be inappropriate at this stage of our narrative, to give 
a hasty glance at the condition of the people. A cursory reader, who 
examines only the military annals of the time, would suppose that 
all classes were reduced to the utmost extremity of privation ; but 
alas ! the soldiers endured most of the suffering, and the miseries of 
which we hear so much, were shared, in a very small degree, by 
civilians. Commerce, it is true, was dead, at least in the ordinary 
sense of the term; but though wealth was no longer to be acquired 
by legitimate trade, princely fortunes were made by privateer- 
ing. The mechanic arts comparatively flourished ; agriculture suf- 
fered but few interruptions; and most of the ordinary avoca- 
tions of civilized life continued to be pursued, with but slight 
depressions. If it had not been for the deranged state of the 
currency the community would have grown wealthier, notwith- 
standing the war. Except in the south, and in portions of New 
York. New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, the country was compara- 
tively free from an enemy, and in many inferior districts, but for the 
presence of the recruiting officer a stranger would not have known 
a war existed. 

It is so, of course, in most cases of hostilities. Only in rare 
instances, in long and embittered strifes, is a war brought home in 
all its horrors to the mass of the people. The great extent of coun- 
try over which the British armies were called to operate, was a 
principal reason why the war was never, at the north at least, such 
a war as that in which the Palatinate was ravaged, or La Vendee 
laid waste, or the Carnatic blasted with fire and sword. The manner 
in which Napoleon waged war, a few years later, was far more 
destructive : like the hot winds of the desert his armies wilted and with- 
ered wherever they came. The soldiers of the French Emperor, 
holding that *<war should support war," were, to a certain extent, 
the most unscrupulous of plunderers; the soldiers of Howe and 
Clinton, at least in the early stages of the conflict, were disposed to 
conciliate the people where they came. Hence, the contest in 
America, considering its protracted length, brought home to the 
people less of the sufferings of war than any similar one recorded in 
history. There was one exception, however, and that was the 
south. Here the war partook of a more barbarous character. Here 
war was made to support war. Here all the worst qualities of 
human nature were evoked on both sides. The narrative of such a 
war should be a thing distinct, and by itself. 



112 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 



We will then turn from the north, where comparative in- 
activity marked both armies, and devote ourselves, for a while to 
the south, where war, revisiting that section of the country, in the 
summer of 1779, continued to rage until the declaration of peace, 
with a violence and horror to which the north had been a stranger, 
and which gave to it, in the language of General Greene, the 
character of a strife between fiends rather than men. 




li 




GENERAL GREENE. 



BOOK IV, 



THE WAR IN THE SOUTH. 



HE commissioners sent out with Lord 
Howe, in the spring of 1778, had con- 
tinued in the country after Congress re- 
jected their proposals, one of their number 
occupying himself in endeavors to seduce 
various prominent members of the patriot 
party. Governor Johnstone was the per- 
sonage who made himself active in these 
overtures. He addressed letters to Robert 
Morris, to Joseph Reed, and to Francis 
Dana : and secretly oflered, through a 
^ady, a bribe of ten thousand pounds to General Reed. These in- 
trigues commg to light, induced Congress to declare that it could 
15 K* 113 




1 14 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

hold no correspondence with Johnstone, who made a sharp rejoinaer, 
while his colleagues disclaimed all knowledge of any bribery and 
corruption, and bore testimony to his honesty and high mindedness. 
The conduct of Reed was one of the noblest instances of patriotism 
•n our revolutionary history. 

The winter spent at Valley Forge had not been without one good 
effect : it had tended materially to increase the discipline of the army. 
In May, 177S, the Baron Steuben, who had served with distinction 
under the great Frederick, was appointed Inspector General of the 
army, into which he speedily introduced the exact and perfect prac- 
tice of the then celebrated Prussian discipline. The benefit of his 
instructions was perceptible even at so early a period as the battle 
of Monmouth, as may be seen by comparing the conduct of the 
soldiers there and at Long Island ; but was more especially remark- 
able in the storming of Stony Point, where not a musket was 
discharged, but the bayonet did every thing, a feat worthy of the 
Prussian veterans themselves. 

The British, after three active campaigns, now found themselves 
no further advanced than in the first. It had been remarked in 
Europe, on hearing of the battle of Bunker Hill, that the royal 
troops had conquered, on that day, only so much of America as was 
covered by the dead and dying. After the lapse of four years, they 
had done no more. At no period, not even in the disastrous autumn 
of 1776, had they reduced to submission more of the country than 
they occupied. As long as their armies were present in overwhelm- 
ing force, the inhabitants were quiet through terror ; but the instant 
the royal troops departed, the country rose in their rear. The tem- 
porary ascendancy of the loyalists, always in a minority, was cast 
down : the patriots once more assumed the reins of government ; the 
disaffected Avere banished, imprisoned, or silenced by fines : and a 
traveller, ignorant of this sudden change, would have supposed that 
the colonists had never succumbed to the British, since the war 
first broke out. 

From the conquest of such a people, the royal generals began to 
turn in despair. At first, they had attempted the reduction of New 
England. A year's experience had convinced them that this was 
impossible. Then they had essayed the middle states ; this endea- 
vor, also, after a more stubborn trial, they had virtually abandoned. 
The south, however, remained to them : and they resolved to make 
there a last effort. They were stimulated to this final enterprise by 
the servile character of a portion of her population, opening a doc? 
for domestic treason and warfare ; by the fact that a larger com- 



GENERAL PREVOST AT SAVANNAH. 115 

parative number of the free population were loyalists, than at the 
north ; and by the richness of portions of the soil, which furnished 
large supplies to Washington, as well as to the French fleet in the West 
Indies. It was hoped that if the south was overrun and conquered, 
it could be retained for the King, even if it became necessary to 
acknowledge the independence of the middle and eastern provinces. 
The CaroKnas and Georgia were too rich a prize to be lightly 
abandoned : the stake was worth playing for, at least. Moved by 
these considerations, the English Generals resolved to transfer the 
war to those provinces. A sufficient force was to be reserved at the 
north to keep Washington in check : the remainder was to be 
embarked for a new and more dazzhng field of enterprise. Was it 
blind destiny, or an overruling Providence that lured them on ? 

As an experiment. Lieutenant Colonel Campbell had been 
despatched from New York, towards the close of the year 1778, with 
twenty -five hundred men, to invest Savannah : while at the same 
time. General Prevost, who commanded the British troops in the 
Floridas, was ordered to march with all his force, and invade Geor- 
gia from the south. Colonel Campbell appeared in the Savannah 
river on the 23rd of December, 1778 ; and six days after effected a 
landing, under cover of the fleet. General Robert Howe, of the 
American Army, had hastily collected a force of about nine hundred 
regulars and militia, and with these he took a strong position, sur- 
rounded, except in front, by the river, and by morasses. A negro, 
however, betrayed a secret pass in his rear to the enemy, and being 
attacked on both sides at once, Howe was defeated, though not until 
after a desperate resistance. Nearly two-thirds of his little force 
were either killed or made prisoners. The town, the fort, the ship- 
ping in the river, and all the provisions, fell into the hands of the 
British. With what remained of his little army, Howe retreated 
into South Carolina. 

In the meantime. General Prevost had begun his march from 
East Florida, pursuant to the orders of General Clinton. After 
having conquered innumerable obstacles, he arrived at Fort Sunbury, 
which he proceeded to invest. The fort soon surrendered. About 
this time. Colonel Campbell, who had set out also to reduce the fort, 
came up, and the two English corps efl'ected a junction with 
mutual felicitations. General Prevost now proceeded to Savannah, 
where he assumed the chief command. Shortly after, he sent a 
detachment to occupy Augusta. The loyalists in the upper part ol 
South Carolina, animated by the appearance of the British at 
Augusta, collected, and began to march to joui, the royal standard. 



116 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

having first chosen for their leader Colonel Boyd. Their route was 
everywhere marked by pillage and flame. They had already 
crossed the Savannah, and were near the British posts, when Colonel 
Pickens, with a party of Carolinians, in pursuit, came up with them. 
The tories were routed with great slaughter. In consequence, the 
English abandoned Augusta, and fell back to Savannah. 

This retreat was the more advisable, because General Lincoln, 
whom congress had just appointed to the command of the southern 
army, had arrived in the vicinity of Augusta, and encamped at 
Black Swamp. He had been selected at the recommendation of the 
Carolinians, on the first intimation of Clinton's designs against the 
south. The people now rose and took arms with alacrity to second 
him. He soon found himself at the head of about twenty-five hun- 
dred men. Sixteen hundred of these he despatched to the upper 
country, under the command of General Ashe. Prevost, gaining 
intelligence of this separation, resolved to attempt the destruction 
of the weaker corps, and accordingly, by a forced march, he came 
up with General Ashe, at the head of nine hundred regulars, and 
speedily defeated that ofiicer. Most of those who escaped, dis- 
banded, so that but four hundred, out of the whole detachment, 
returned to Lincoln. This affair, in which the militia behaved 
shamefully, has been called the rout of Briar Creek. It occurred on 
the 3rd of March, 1779. 

Lincoln and Prevost, after this, remained watching each other 
until the beginning of May, when Lincoln, in order to overawe the 
loyalists in the upper country, advanced towards Augusta. Instantly 
Prevost formed the design of carrying the war into the heart of 
'Carolina. He accordingly crossed the Savannah, and began to 
forage extensively. General Moultrie, whom Lincoln had left to 
watch the British, retiring before him. Astonished at his own suc- 
cess, bolder views now broke upon him, and he conceived the daring 
project of capturing Charleston itself. In a few days, accordingly, 
after a forced march, he arrived within cannon-shot of that rich 
capital, which he instantly summoned to surrender. On this, all was 
consternation among the citizens : some were for an instant compli- 
ance, others wished to hold out against a storm. At last, amid these 
conflicting counsels, it was resolved to temporise for the present, 
trusting to the speedy arrival of Lincoln to raise the seige. This 
scheme succeeded. Prevost was still listening to discussions of 
the terms of the capitulation, when he received intelligence that 
Lincoln was approaching. It was now his own turn to be alarmed.' 
He determined to retreat. This he eff'ected by crossing to the 



SIEGE OP SAVANNAH. 117 

neighboring islands of St. John 'and St. James. A succession of 
hke fertile islands, contiguous to each other, but separated from the 
main, stretch along the sea-coast from Charleston to Savannah, and 
by availing himself of these, Prevost extricated himself from a 
dilemma, into which it is almost impossible to tell whether he was 
led more by boldness, than by rashness. Lincoln made no attempt 
to assail the retiring British, except by attacking the pass at Stono 
Ferry ; where, however, he met with a repulse. The royal army 
now retired to Savannah. 

Thus, in a single campaign, had the British conquered the whole 
province of Georgia, besides devastating some of the richest parts 
of South Carolina and almost possessing themselves of its capital. 
It is true that the excesses committed by the royal troops, in the end 
inflamed the inhabitants against them ; but, at present, nothing was 
seen, nothing was talked of, but the supremacy of the English. The 
British officers continually remarked on the ease of conquering the 
south, compared with the more stubborn north. Miserable delusion! 
But when Prevost wrote to Sir Henry Clinton that he had reduced 
the whole province of Georgia to abject submission, and that in 
CaroUna he had destroyed innumerable splendid dwellings and freed 
four thousand negroes, the British General, inflamed by the magni- 
tude of the prize and the comparative ease with which it might be 
appropriated, determined to follow up in earnest the conquest of that 
splendid section of the country. In the meanwhile, in order to divert 
the public mind, he despatched that ruthless expedition against 
Portsmouth, in Virginia, of which we have already given an account. 

Before, however. Sir Henry Clinton could prepare to enter in 
person on a southern campaign, the Count d'Estaing arrived oft' 
Savannah, anxious to perform something showy and brilliant before 
he returned to Europe. We left him re-fitting at Boston in 
1778. After he had laid in his stores there, he sailed for the 
West Indies, where he was occupied, with various success, for nearly 
a year. About the first of September, 1779, he made his appearance 
on the coast of Georgia. The news of his arrival caused a delirium 
of exultation at Charleston. Lincoln immediately marched for 
Savannah. D'Estaing now landed his troops, and on the 15th of 
September the allies appeared under the walls of the town. Prevost 
was summoned to surrender. He asked twenty-four hours delay, 
during which time he was joined by a reinforcement of eight hun- 
dred men. He now expressed his determination to defend himself 
to the last extremity. On this d'Estaing began the siege in form 
The allies numbered nearly eight thousand ; the British three thou- 



18 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 




SAVANNAH IN THE TEAR ONE THOUSAND, SEVEN HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-EIGHT. 



sand. But the latter were defended by fortifications, which daily 
strengthened beneath their assiduous labors. At length, on the 3rd 
of October, the besiegers mounted their first battery, and for the five 
succeeding days the bombardment was maintained with extraordi- 
nary vigor : fifty-three heavy cannon and nine mortars shook the 
earth with constant explosions ; carcasses were launched into the 
town, imparting flames wherever they struck ; women and children 
were killed by the falling roofs, or what is worse, were miserably 
crippled. Yet still the garrison betrayed no signs of surrender. The 
few breaches in their works they repaired, defying their enemy gal- 
lantly to the last. 

The season was now approaching when storms, so frequent and 
terrible in the autumn on that coast, rendered the situation of the 
French fleet extremely precarious. D'Estaing had been pursuaded, 
day after day, by the growing excitement of the siege, to postpone his 
departure ; but now lie declared that the safety of the fleet precluded 
a longer delay. Before abandoning the expedition, however, it was 
resolved to attempt the British works by assault : an enterprise in 



SIEGE OF CHARLESTON. 119 

which d'Estaing was sanguine of success, although no considerable 
breach had been yet opened. Accordingly, on the 9th, before day, 
the alHes advanced to the storm in two columns, d'Estaing leading 
one, and Lincoln the other. It is said the English had received 
notice of the impending attack ; and the assertion is rendered proba- 
ble by the state of preparation in which they were found. For an 
hour the strife raged with terrific fury. A redoubt on the Ebenezer 
Road became the principal scene of the conflict. A French and an 
American standard were at last planted on the ramparts, but soon 
hurled down, with their brave defenders, by the soldiers in the place. 
In the end, the allies were forced to retreat, leaving, of the F]?ench, 
six hundred and thirty-seven, of the Americans, two hundred and 
forty-one, killed and wounded. In the height of the assault. Count 
Pulaski, charging at the head of his men, received a mortal wound, 
of which he died a few days after. The loss of the British, as they 
fought behind ramparts, was inconsiderable. On the 18th the siege 
was raised. Lincoln passed to the left bank of the Savannah, into 
South Carohna : d'Estaing embarked, and immediately left the 
coasts of America. Of this fatal affair, impartial history is forced to 
record that the assault either took place too soon, or v/as put off 
too long. Had it occurred before Prevost was reinforced it would 
probably have been successful : had it been delayed until the trenches 
were further advanced, and practicable breaches made, the fortress 
must have fallen. Thus ended d'Estaing's career in America. In 
all his enterprises undertaken in conjunction with his allies he was 
unfortunate, partly from his own rashness, partly because restricted 
by instructions from home : in consequence his name has been 
regarded here with peculiar unpopularity and disfavor. He effected 
little, yet was not wholly useless. His presence restrained the Bri- 
tish and made them avoid hazardous enterprises. Owing to his 
expected return from the West Indies the royal troops were with- 
drawn from Rhode Island and concentrated at New York ; while 
Clinton, from the same cause, postponed his long contemplated 
southern expedition, until d'Estaing had left America. 

No sooner, however, did the British General receive certain intel- 
ligence of d'Estaing's departure, than he set sail from New York, 
with between seven and eight thousand men, under convoy of Ad- 
miral Arbuthnot, who had arrived some weeks before with reinforce 
ments. The fleet was at first separated by a tempest, but the ships 
finally arrived in Georgia about the end of January, 1780. Thence 
th(^ re-united forces proceeded towards Charleston, and on the 11th 
of February landed on St. John's Island, about thirty miles south of 



\20 THE WA^R OF INDEPENDENCE. 

that town. Proceeding with celerity, Clinton, by the end of March, 
was fully prepared for the siege. On the 21st, Admiral Arbuthnot, 
with the fleet, forced the passage defended by Fort Moultrie. On 
the 29th, Clinton crossed the Ashley, twelve miles above the town, 
and marching down, took post across the isthmus, a mile and a half 
distant behind the city. On the 1st of April ground was broken, 
and in a week afterwards batteries raised. On the. 9th, Admiral 
Arbuthnot, taking advantage of a favorable wind, sailed up the 
harbor, and took a position within cannon shot of the town. Every- 
thing being now ready on the part of the British, and the city being 
hemmed effectually in, a summons was sent to Lincoln to surrender. 
That General answered with spirit that he was determined to de- 
fend himself to the last. On this the English opened their fire. 

From the hour in which he had received the intimation of Clin- 
ton's approach, Lincoln had been busily engaged in putting Charles- 
ton in a state of defence. The old works were repaired : new 
fortifications erected. A chain of redoubts, lines and batteries was 
constructed, extending from the Ashley to. the Cooper river, thus 
completely defending the peninsula on which Charleston stood. 
Eighty pieces of artillery guarded this line. On either side of the 
town, wherever a landing could be effected, batteries were erected, 
which bristled with cannon. On these various works six thousand 
slaves had been actively employed. Meantime, the Governor, Mr. 
Rutledge, seconded Lincoln with all the powers of civil government, 
increased in this emergency, by a vote of the Assembly, to those of 
a dictatorship. The inhabitants were called out e7i masses and con- 
fiscation threatened to those who refused. Nevertheless, there was 
among many a disposition to hold back : already they feared that 
the colonists would prove the weaker ; and, in consequence, the 
utmost exertions of the Governor and General could not raise the 
effective force of the garrison above six thousand. Of these, but two 
thousand, who were regulars, could be depended on. But there 
were strong hopes that reinforcements, which had been promised 
from North Carolina, would speedily arrive : indulging this expecta- 
tion, Lincoln returned a defiance to the summons of Clinton. Had 
it been certain that no succor would reach him, the American Gene- 
ral might have acted differently, and either made an honorable 
capitulation, or effected a retreat over the Cooper River, which as 
yet remained open to him. 

In a few days, however, this outlet was also closed. A 
party of cavalry and militia, who virtually guarded it, were attacked 
and uttterly routed, at Monk's Comer. The English now swarmed 



SIEGE OP CHARLESTON. 121 

over the whole country on the side of Cooper River opposite 
Charleston ; and thus were the Americans finally enclosed. By this 
time the second parallel had been opened, and the town began to 
crumble under the fire of the British batteries. Receiving an 
accession of reinforcements amounting to three thousand men, Clin- 
ton resolved to attack Fort Moultrie, which place, despairing of 
reUef, and being too weak to resist an assault, surrendered on the 
7th of May. The third parallel had now been reached. Clinton 
seized this occasion to summon Lincoln anew. But the Americans 
would not consent to the terms of capitulation offered, and accord- 
ingly the conflict began again. The English batteries thundered 
incessantly : the fortifications sunk under repeated blows ; many of 
the guns were dismounted, and officers and soldiers were picked off 
if they showed themselves above the works. The town, all this 
while, suffered terribly. Bombs fell continually among the houses, 
whence flames almost hourly broke forth, and were with difficulty 
extinguished ; no roof was safe, no place of refuge remained. The 
citizens began to clamor. The garrison lost heart. At last the 
inflexibility of Lincoln gave Way, and on the 12th of May, articles 
of capitulation were signed. By these the garrison was allowed 
some of the honors of war; it was to march out of the town and 
deposit its arms in front of the works, but the drums were not to 
beat a British march, nor the colors to be uncased. The seamen 
and continentals were to be prisoners of war until exchanged : the 
militia were allowed to return to their homes as prisoners on parole : 
the citizens were also to be prisoners on parole, and, as well as the 
militia, were not to be molested in person or property. The officers 
were to retain their arms, baggage and servants. By this capitula- 
tion seven general officers ; ten continental regiments, much reduced j 
three battalions of artillery ; four frigates ; and an immense quan- 
tity of bombs, balls and powder came into the hands of the English, 
It is computed that four hundred cannon, and six thousand troops, 
in all, were captured at the fall of Charleston. The blow was the 
severest one the cause of independence had 3^et received. 

Lincoln was almost universally blamed. One half the nation 
censured him for attempting to defend the town at all, and the other 
half found fault with him for not abandoning it before the rout at 
Monk's Corner. His best defence, perhaps, is in this very difference 
of opinion ; for if it was difficult, after the afiair, to tell what he 
should have done: how much more difficult must it have been 
during the progress of events. Besides, he had been promised 
reinforcements, which he depended on, but which never arrived 
16 L 



122 



THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 



In popular communities an unfortunate General is too frequently 
punished as an incompetent one, at least, by public opinion ; and 
such was the fate of Lincoln : but it is the province of history to 
correct these erroneous judgments, and declare the truth, however 
counter it may run to preconceived opinions. , 

Clinton had no sooner taken possession of Charleston than he 
proceeded to follow up his success by the conquest of the state. He 
sent out expeditions to various quarters, all of which were success- 
ful. One, composed of about seven hundred horse and foot, com- 
manded by Colonel Tarleton, overtook and defeated, after a forced 
march, a body of continental infantry and a few horsemen, led by 
Colonel Benford, at the Waxhaws. A horrible scene of butchery 
ensued. The Americans, imploring quarter, were ruthlessly cut 




TAHLfirON'S QUARTERS. 



down, until nearly every man was killed, or so severely wounded 
as to be unable to move. This massacre gave a tone of savageness 
to the future warfare in the south on both sides ; and, long after, 
when the colonists would express the cruelties of a barbarous foe, 
they called them Tarleton's quarters. 

These reverses struck terror far and wide through Carolina. The 
iall of Charleston, and the successive blows dealt throughout the 
state, paralyzed all resistance : even the patriots began to regard the 



AMERICAN VICTORY AT HANGING ROCK. 1.23 

south as irretrievably conquered. Clinton resolved to seize this l;\vor- 
able crisis in the public sentiment, by the proclamation of a genpraJ 
amnesty and pardon, ending with an invitation to all citizens to 
renew their allegiance. By a sort of trick he strove to enroll the 
inhabitants in the army of the King. He freed all persons taken at 
Charleston, except the regulars, from their parole ; but immediately 
enjoined on them, as being now royal citizens, to ta,ke up arms for 
his Majesty. All persons who would not do this were to be treated 
as rebels. Regarding the Colony as completely conquered, he ioon 
after sailed for New York, leaving Cornwallis in command at the 
south. 

But the clause, in which it was sought to force every citizen to 
fight for the King, soon began to re-act with terrible force against 
the British. Men, who had but lately borne arms for the Congress, 
were not prepared to take the field against it : they would have 
been willing to remain neutral ; but they were not to be drilled 
into instruments of oppression. A change in the public sentiment 
immediately began. Despair gave courage : a deadly animosity was 
nursed in secret. Many openly avowed their sentiments and fled : 
others dissembled for a time. But the great majority, so frail is 
human nature, were driven by their fears to swear allegiance 
to the royal government ; only the women were frank and heroic, 
for these, with a courage above that of the other sex, openly 
expressed their sentiments, and loaded with smiles of approval the 
few of their countrymen who dared to be sincere. 

A portion of those who preferred abandoning their homes to 
acknowledging the royal authority, met in North Carolina, and 
chose for their leader, General Sumpter, a man of enterprise, skill 
and chivalrous courage. He immediately began, on the state authori- 
ty, a partizan warfare. On the 10th of July, at the head of but one 
himdred and thirty-three men, he routed a detachment of royal 
forces and militia at Williamson's plantation. His force gradually 
swelled to six hundred men. He now made an unsuccessful attack 
• on Rocky Mount, where a strong party of the enemy was posted ; 
but immediately afterwards met and almost utterly annihilated, at 
Hanging Rock, the Prince of Wales' regiment and large body of 
tories. These shght checks, however, did not intimidate Cornwallis, 
who was actively engaged in preparations to invade North Caro- 
lina. But meantime Congress and Washington had not been idle, 
and at that very moment an army was advancing from the north to 
(appose him, headed by the man who had subdued Burgoyne, the con 
([uering Gates. 



124 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

As soon as Washington had been apprised of the siege of Charles- 
ton, he had despatched the Baron de Kalb to the snccor of that 
place, with fourteen hundred regulars. That officer made every effort, 
but in vain, to reach his destination in time. In passing through 
Virginia and North Carolina he was joined by the militia of thoso 
provinces, by which reinforcements his army was raised very conside- 
rably. So large a force, in the eyes of Congress, favored the hope 
of a successful struggle for the recovery of the south : and to give as 
much confidence as possible to the army, t^ates was appointed to the 
chief command, the prestige of whose name, it was thought, would 
ensure victory. Accordingly, on the 25th of July, that officer joined 
the camp at Deep River. He immediately reviewed the troops, and 
without loss of time advanced to the Pedee. On entering South 
Carolina, he issued a proclamation, calling on all patriotic citizens 
to resort to his standard. So great was the confidence in his name, 
that numbers flocked to him, and on every side, the most unequivo- 
cal signs of a rising alarmed Cornwallis. That officer was at Cam- 
den, where he found that he must either retreat to Charleston, or 
give battle to his foe. His forces were but two thousand, of whom 
only fifteen hundred were regulars: while the army of Gates 
amounted to three thousand, six hundred and sixty-three, of whom 
about a thousand were regulars. Nevertheless, he chose the bolder 
resolution, and determined to give battle. On the night of the 1 5th 
of August, accordingly, he moved from his position, intending to 
assault the Americans in their camp ; but, by a singular coincidence, 
he met Gates half-way, coming, in like manner, to surprise him. A 
smart skirmish ensued in the darkness, which unfortunately destroyed 
the confidence of the American militia ; but eventually both armies 
drew off, resolving to await daylight before they engaged in the 
deadly strife. Profound silence now fell over the landscape, no 
sound being heard except the occasional neigh of a horse, the cry 
of the sentinel, or the wind moaning among the lofty pines. 

The morning rose still and hazy. Cornwallis found himself, for- 
tunately, in an excellent position. His army covered a piece of firm 
ground, bounded on the right and left by morasses, parallel to which 
a highway ran through the centre of his position. He accordingly 
drew up his army in two divisions : the right, commanded by 
Colonel Webster, reached from one morass to the highway ; the 
left, led by Lord Rawdon, extended from the highway, to the other 
morass : the artillery was placed in front of the highway, as it were, 
between the two divisions. Tarleton, with his cavalry, was on the 
right of the road, in readiness to charge or receive the enemy, as 



BATTLE OF CAMDEN. 125 

occasiun might require. Gates divided his van-guard into three 
columns ; the right, the centre, and the left, commanded respectively 
by Generals Gist, Caswell, and Stevens. Behind the left column, 
which was composed of the Virginia militia, were posted the light 
infantry of Porterfield and Armstrong. Colonel Armand, with his 
cavalry, faced the legion of Tarleton. The continental troops of 
Delaware and Maryland formed the reserve. Unfortunately, just as 
the action was about to begin. Gates, not exactly liking the position 
of his left and centre columns, undertook to change them. The eagle 
eye of Cornwallis saw the advantage this error afforded him, and 
instantly, he hurled the veteran grenadiers of Webster on the still 
wavering line. The English advanced in splendid order, now pour 
ing. in their fire, now charging with the bayonet. For a while, the 
smoke shrouded the combatants from sight, but the suspense was 
soon over, for the Virginians, breaking wildly from the vapory 
canopy, were seen flying in all directions. Their rout exposed the 
flank of the next column, which in turn gave way. Gates and 
Caswell made some efforts to check the panic, but in vain ; for 
Tarleton, coming down at a gallop, spread renewed terror and con- 
sternation among the fugitives, who plunged themselves, as a last 
hope, into the woods for safety. 

The whole shock of battle now fell on the reserves, the gallant 
regulars of Delaware and Maryland: and already their left flank was 
exposed, while, in front, a victorious foe poured down to the attack. 
Then was shewn the difference between veterans and militia, 
between discipline and the want of it ! Environed by foes, and left 
alone on that sanguinary field, the little band, not a thousand strong, 
still made good its ground. Opposing the enemy with a terrible fire, 
or by the push of the bayonet, they, for a while, withstood all his 
efforts. The Baron de Kalb led them several times to the charge, 
and they even regained, lost ground, and took some prisoners. A 
few hundred more of such veterans would have turned the fortunes 
of that bloody day. But their number was too small to produce a 
permanent effect ; and at last, surrounded on all sides, and pene- 
trated by cavalry, they were forced from the field. The Baron de 
Kalb fell in this desperate struggle mortally wounded, and was 
abandoned to the foe. The flight now became general. The British 
pursued the fugitives for the space of twenty-three miles, be wing 
mercilessly down all they overtook : and to this day, tradition bears 
testimony to the terrors of that bloody rout. 

The loss in this battle, for the Americans, was excessive, consider- 
ing the number of troops engaged : it was, according to the account 



126 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

of Lord Cornwallis, about eight hundred in killed, and one thousand 
in prisoners. As the rout and dispersion was so total, the American 
General could never tell what his real loss was ; but the English 
account is probably exaggerated. The British suffered in killed and 
wounded, three hundred and twenty-five. Gates remained on the 
field until the total rout of the mihtia, when, regarding the day 
lost, he retreated to Charlotte, about eighty miles distant, with only 
a few friends. The next day, about one hundred and fifty soldiers, 
the remnant of his army, arrived at the same place. With this 
slender force. Gates retreated to Salisbury, and finally to Hills- 
borough. 

Another disaster soon followed. Sumpter, a few days before the 
battle, had asked a reinforcement of four hundred men from Gates, 
to enable him to intercept a convoy of supplies, destined for Lord 
Cornwallis. He obtained the men, and succeeded in capturing the 
convoy. But hearing of the defeat at Camden, he began a hasty 
retreat up the Wateree, with his prisoners and stores. Tarleton 
gave pursuit, and owing to the negligence of the sentinels, surprised 
Sumpter in his camp, dispersing his force with a loss of between 
three and four hundred, and recovering all the captured stores. 

The defeat at Camden depreciated the reputation of Gates, as 
much as the capture of Burgoyne had exalted it. He passed at 
once from the extreme of popularity to that of odium. That a Gene- 
ral should succeed so signally in the one instance, and fail so^disgrace- 
fully in the other, is a fact which has been considered inexphcable. 
But the secret of the paradox lies in the character of Gates, Though 
an acccomphshed gentleman, and a finished officer, he was not a 
great General, in any sense of the term. He entered on the northern 
campaign after the net had been spread which afterwards enclosed 
Burgoyne, and when all that was left for him to perform, was to 
conduct the drama gracefully to the end : this no man could do bet- 
ter. But when he came to operate in a diff'erent region of country, 
he shewed that want of adaptation to circumstances which is so fre- 
quently the ruin of military reputations. He hurried on, when he 
should have moved slowly : he relied on badfy disciplined troops, 
when he ought to have waited until they were better drilled : he 
undertook to move militia in the face of a foe, a manoeuvre only to 
be performed by veteran troops. After the battle, his despondency 
was as excessive as his exhilaration before had been undue. In a 
word. Ills was one of those minds which, in ordinary times, like gay 
pleasure-barks, are safe enough, but which, when different occasions 
arise, and the horizon darkens with tempests, lose their equipoise 



DEFEAT OF MAJOR FERGUSON. 127 

and go down forever. One of the first acts of Congress, on hearing 
of the disaster of Camden, was to supersede Gates. The choice of 
a successor was left to Washington, who selected General Greene, a 
man, as events proved, every way competent for the office. 

The victory at Camden left the British once more an undisputed 
supremacy, which Cornwallis proceeded to assert with terrible, if not 
impolitic rigor. Under his orders, every militia man who had borne 
arms with the British, and afterwards joined the Americans, was to 
be put to death ; and numbers of unhappy victims, in consequence, 
perished on the gallows. Those who had once submitted, but who 
had subsequently taken up arms, were to be imprisoned, and their 
property confiscated. The iron hoof of the conquerer was thus 
made to trample on the breast of the humblest as well as of the 
most proud. Despair took possession of the miserable inhabitants. 
Escape from this awful tyranny seemed hopeless. At first, beguiled 
or terrified into joining the party of the King ; then lured to that of 
Gates by the prospect of a speedy delivery from their oppressors : 
and now again cast back, disarmed and powerless, into the merciless 
arms of the conquerer ; they saw no hope of relief unless by a mira- 
cle from heaven. 

The first gleam of success came from a victory won chiefly by 
militig-, a species of force which, in this war, gained some of the 
most gallant triumphs, as well as caused some of the most dis- 
graceful defeats. Major Ferguson had been sent by Cornwallis, 
into North Carolina, to raise and embody the tories, a task which he 
executed with success. He was conducting his new levies to the 
royal camp, when he learned that General Clarke, of Georgia, after 
an unsuccessful attempt on Augusta, was retreating. Major Fergu- 
son instantly resolved to cut him off. But a party of mountaineers 
from North Carolina and Virginia, hastily assuming arms, intercepted 
Ferguson, himself, near Gilbert-town. Finding escape impossible, 
he fell back to King's Mountain, where he made a stand. The 
Americans advanced in three divisions. Ferguson gallantly repulsed 
the first with the bayonet : but while thus occupied, the second 
attacked him : this also he drove back. Meantime, the third had 
come into action, but whilt; engaged with this, the other two rallied 
and returned to the charge. Ferguson now fell mortally wounded, 
and his men, struck with dismay, surrendered. In this action, the 
British lost one hundred and fifty killed, as many wounded, and eight 
hundred pri^ners. The American loss was inconsiderable, except in 
the death of Colonel Williams. Cruelty begets cruelty, and smarting 
under the remembrance of Camden, the Americans selected ten of 



128 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

their prisoners, and hung them on the spot. After this, the victors 
disbanded and returned home. 

The success of this bold enterprise led to the beginning of that 
partizan warfare, which, from this time forward, was prosecuted with 
such success by the Americans. The two prominent leaders in this 
species of warfare, were Generals Sumpter and Marion. Sumpter 
was impetuous, chivalric, often rash, and brave to a fault : his ene- 
mies gave him the coarse but expressive nickname of the " game- 
cock.^' Marion was wary, subtle, ever on the watch, quick as 
lightning to advance or to retreat : the British, affecting to despise 
his superior caution, called him " the swamp fox." Sumpter, after 
the dispersion of his corps by Tarleton, raised a body of volunteers, 
and plunging boldly into the heart of South Carolina, -maintained 
himself there for three months, harassing the enemy continually, and 
securing his safety by the rapidity of his movements from point to 
point. At Broad River, Major Wemyss, at the head of a force of 
infantry and dragoons, came up with him ; but was totally defeated, 
and himself taken prisoner. At Tyger River, his old adversary, 
Tarleton, attacked him, but was beaten off with loss. When the 
British army went into winter quarters, Sumpter still kept the field, 
capturing parties sent out to forage, and dealing a blow wherever 
possible. Marion's movements, for a time, were less bold. Begin- 
ning, at first, with but a few men, his followers gradually increased 
to a respectable force : and with this he now began to traverse the 
country, often at night, and always with rapidity. His blows. fell 
in all directions, and where least expected. The British, hearing of 
him at one place, would hasten to pursue him, but Marion, wheeling 
on their rear, would strike, perhaps, the very position they had 
abandoned. Often, at sunrise, he would be sixty miles from the 
place where he had been seen at sunset the night before. His little 
army varied continually, the men coming and returning as they 
found convenient : sometimes he had a hundred followers, some- 
times scarcely a dozen : in consequence, many of his best conceived 
enterprises had to be abandoned for want of troops. His influence, 
however, continued gradually extending : risking little, he in the 
end gained much: and when the war closed, perhaps no man, after 
Greene, stood higher in the estimation of the southern colonists, or was 
regarded as having contributed more to the success of the struggle.' 

The victories at King's Mountain and Tyger River, induced 
Cornwailis, who at first had advanced towards North Carolina, to 
fall back again on Camden. As he retired. Gates advanced. Anothei 
army, though small in number, had gradually gathered itself around 



BATTLE OF THE COWPENS. 129 

the defeated General. Concluaiii^ that active operations would be 
postponed until spring, Gates retired into winter quarters, at Char- 
lotte. Here he was when, on the 2nd of December, Greene arrived 
to supercede him. In this delicate affair both Generals acquitted 
themselves handsomely. Gates yielded up the command with 
dignified resignation, and Greene paid his predecessor the delicate 
compliment of confirming his standing orders. 

The new commander immediately proceeded to review his troops. 
He found them to consist of nine hundred and seventy continentals, 
and one thopand and thirteen militia. Of all these, however, there 
were but eight hundred properly clad and equipped for service. 
The artillery consisted of two brass field pieces, besides several of 
iron. The magazines were empty. The neighboring country was 
almost a waste, and provisions would have been difficult to procure 
even with money, but Greene had not a penny. This was a situa 
tion to drive a General to despair. But Greene, of ail the men of 
the Revolution, was next to Washington, the man of most equal 
mind. Misfortune had no power to depress, as success had no 
capacity to elate him. He began immediately, as Washington had 
done at Cambridge, to remedy the evils that surrounded him. He 
reformed the Quartermaster's department ; he inspired confidence in 
the men, yet at the same time tightened the reins of discipline : he 
made himself aquainted with the country in which he had come to 
operate ; and, as a preliminary measure, appointed Kusciusko to 
prepare flat-bottomed boats, to have at hand, in which to cross the 
numerous rivers Avith which the two Carolinas are intersected. 

His first movement was to despatch Morgan west of the Catawba, 
in order to encourage the inhabitants in that quarter. Morgan's 
farce consisted of three hundred regulars, commanded by Lieutenant 
Colonel Howard, the light dragoons, of Captain Washington, and 
ten companies of militia from Virginia, composed chiefly of old con- 
tinentals. Greene, after making this detachment, moved his own 
camp down the Pedee. He was here about seventy miles north- 
east from Wynnsborough, where Cornwallis lay awaiting reinforce- 
ments ; Morgan was on the Pacolet, about fifty miles north-west of 
Cornwallis. In these relative positions of the three armies, the 
British General determined to advance on North Carolina, and in 
his way, to strike at one of the American divisions, while unsup- 
ported by the other. He had just been joined by General Leslie, 
with reinforcements, enabling him thus to assume the offensive. 
Accordingly he moved north-westward, between the Catawba ana 
Broad Rivers. Meantime he detached Tarleton to attack Morgan, 
17 



130 THE WAR OF INDEPEJ^T'ENCE. 

It will be seen, from the route chosei by Cornwallis, that even if 
Morgan escaped Tarleton, there was a cnance of his being inter- 
cepted by Cornwallis himself. 

On the 14th of January, 1781, General Morgan, for the first time, 
learned his danger. Though pursued by a much superior foe, ne 
resolved nevertheless to give battle. For this purpose he halted at 
a place called the Cowpens. He drew up his best troops, consisting 
of the regulars and old continentals, in number between four and 
five hundred men, on an eminence in an open wood. In their rear, 
on the descent of the hill, he posted Washington's cavalry, and 
some mounted militia men from Georgia. On these two corps 
rested his hopes of victory. The militia were posted in front, to 
receive the first shock of battle, with orders to give a single fire as 
the enemy approached, and then fall back, firing by regiments, until 
they had passed the regulars, on whose right they were ordered 
to form. 

Tarleton began the attack with his usual impetuosity, his men 
shouting as they advanced. The militia fell back, as ordered. The 
British, pressing their advantage, rushed gallantly on, and with their 
superior numbers soon outflanked the little line of continentals. 
Perceiving this, Howard, who commanded them, ordered the com- 
pany on his right to change its front so as to face the enemy on its 
flank. The order was misunderstood, and the company fell back : 
on which, the whole line, adopting the error, began to retreat, but 
slowl^^ and in good order. At this crisis General Morgan galloped 
in person to the head of the line, and ordered it to retire over the 
brow of the hill to where the cavalry was posted. Believing victory 
theirs, for they looked on this movement as a retreat, the British 
dashed impetuously forward and in some disorder ; but they had 
scarcely crossed the hill when the Americans suddenly halted, with- 
in thirty yards, and gave them a withering volley. At this unex- 
pected check, the royal troops halted in some confusion. A moment 
would have restored their confidence ; but Howard did not give it to 
them : instantly seeing his advantage, he ordered his men to charge 
with the bayonet. The solid front of steel bore every thing before it. 
The British line was broken. At the same moment the enemy's 
cavalry, who, the instant the militia began to retire, had galloped in 
pursuit, were charged by Washington, and the rout of the royal 
troops became general on all sides. Both Howard and Washington 
pressed their advantage. The latter pursued the flying enemy for 
some distance and in the eagerness of pursuit, had nearly paid for 
his temerity by his life. In this action the British lost one hundred 



BATTLE OP THE COWPENS. 



131 




BATTLE OF THE COWPENS. 



killed, and over five hundred prisoners. Two field pieces, two 
standards, eight hundred muskets, and numerous baggage wagons 
and dragoon horses fell into the hands of the Americans. The vic- 
tors lost but eighty men in killed and wounded. For the number 
of persons engaged this was one of the most brilhant victories of the 
war : and in its consequences was of almost incalculable importance. 
It deprived Cornwallis of one-fifth of his army. Had Greene been 
in a condition to follow it up, might have led to the total overthrow 
of the British supremacy in the Carolinas : but the American Gene- 
ral had scarcely two thousand men, and most of these were militia, 
a force with which it would have been madness to have sought the 
foe. The army that Gates lost at Camden would have been 
invaluable to his successor in this crisis. 

The battle field at Cowpens was about the same distance from the 
fords of Catawba as was the Camp of Lord CornwaUis ; and as it 
was necessary to cross the Catawba before he could re-unite with 
Greene, an event now indispensable for the safety of both, Morgan 
lost no time in pushing for the fords. He arrived there on the 23rd, 
and immediately crossed. But Cornwallis was close on his rear. 
That ofiicer had devoted a day to collecting the fugitives from the 
Cowpens, and had then hurried forward to the Catawba, hoping to 
overtake Morgan before the latter passed it. Finding the American 



132 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

Cieneral had already crossed, the British commander resolved to 
follow up the chase ; for unless he could prevent the junction of 
Morgan and Greene, the fruits of Camden were already lost. That 
he might move with the more celerity he destroyed his baggage. 
On the morning of the 1st of February, having been detained two 
days by rains, which had swollen the river, he forced a passage, 
defeating the militia under Davidson, who had been left to guard 
the stream. The retreat of the Americans that ensued is one of the 
most memorable in history. 

Greene, on receiving intelligence of the victory at the Cowpens, 
detached Stevens with his brigade of Virginia militia to escort the 
prisoners taken in the conflict, to Charlotteville, Virginia. He then 
bent the whole force of his genius to effect a junction between the 
two divisions of his army. For this purpose he left General Huger 
in command of the division which he had hitherto accompanied in 
person, ordering him to retreat on Salisbury, where he hoped to 
bring Morgan to join him : and then hurried himself, almost unat- 
tended, to the camp of the latter individual, where he arrived just 
before Cornwallis forced the Catawba. He now retreated with 
Morgan's little force to the Yadkin, the British General struggling 
to reach it first. Greene, however, arrived on its banks in advance 
and immediately crossed ; but so close was the enemy behind, that 
the van of the one army reached the shore as the rear of the other 
left it. Here chance again interposed in favor of the Americans. 
The Yadkin was already swollen, but in the night it swelled still 
more, and being without boats, the British could not keep up the 
pursuit. Accordingly Greene had a moment's respite, which he 
employed in effecting a junction with Huger. 

Thus foiled in his hope of cutting off the division of Morgan, from 
that of Huger, Cornwallis, after some hesitation, resolved by throw- 
mg himself between Greene and Virginia, to force that officer to 
a general action before the reinforcements known to be preparing 
for him in Virginia could arrive. At present, the army of Greene 
numbered but two thousand ; that of Cornwallis, nearly one-third 
more : consequently the latter, in a pitched battle, was certain to 
crush the former. The position of Lord Cornwallis favored the 
design. Unable to cross the Yadkin after Greene, he had marched 
up tViat river, and effected a passage near its source. This placed 
him nearer than his rival to the fords of the Dan River, which still 
lay between Greene and safety : and as he was informed there were 
no boats below by which the Americans could cross, he felt sure 
of his prey. 



GREETJE's retreat in north CAROLINA. 133 

The nearest ferry to Greene was Dix's, fifty miles off; and it 
was about equidistant from the two armies. Lower down the Dan, 
and about seventy miles from Greene, were two other ferries, only 
four miles apart. By retreating on these lower ferries, a considera- 
ble start would be gained on Cornwallis. The only difficulty was 
in the want of boats, in which to cross. To collect a sufficient num- 
ber, an express was sent ahead, which succeeded, with infinite labor, 
in procuring the required quantity. One thing more remained to be 
done. It was necessary to deceive Cornwallis as long as possible 
with respect to the route taken by the main body of the Americans ; 
and accordingly a light corps was formed of the cavalry, and a 
number of picked infantry, the command of the whole being given 
to Colonel Williams, with orders to form a rear-guard, and take the 
road to Dix's, while Greene quietly drew off in front towards the 
lower ferries. The stratagem fully succeeded. Cornwallis pressed 
on, assured that the main body of his enemy was before him, and 
certain of being able to cut it to pieces when arrested by the Dan. 
To increase the deception, Williams hung back close on the rear of 
his pursuers, his own men and those of Cornwallis frequently being 
within musket shot. At last, thinking time had been affi)rded 
Greene to cross the Dan, Wilhams abandoned the road to Dix's, 
and pushed for the lower ferry. Cornwallis, now first perceiving 
the trick of which he had been a victim, pressed furiously in his 
rear. It is said that both the British and Americans marched 
forty miles in the last twenty- four hours; and that the escape of 
WiUiams was so narrow, that his rear had scarcely touched the 
northern bank of the Dan when the enemy reached the southern 
one. Williams crossed on the 1 4th of February ; Greene had crossed 
two days before. 

By this masterly retreat Greene regained the base of his opera- 
tions, and threw himself in the way of reinforcements ; while Corn- 
wallis was drawn awa^^ from his communications, and lured into a 
.hostile country. The merit of this achievement is increased when 
we consider that it was executed in winter, through deep and frozen 
roads, and that the Americans were almost naked, and but scantily 
supplied with provisions. On the other hand, the British troops 
were well clothed and well fed. The disastrous consequences of 
the retreat, to CornvvalUs, soon began to be seen. That officer at 
first had advanced to Hillsborough, and issuing a proclamation, in 
which he asserted he had driven Greene out of North Carolina, 
called on the inhabitants to acknowledge the royal authority. But 
the American General, having been reinforced by six hundred 

M 



* 



134 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

militia, resolved to turn on his foe, and on the IStn of February, 
re-crossed the Dan. He did not take this step a moment too soon. 
There had always been a large number of loyalists in North Caro- 
lina, and these, now animated by the presence of Cornwallis, began 
to show symptoms of taking arms. To favor their rising, and con- 
duct them afterwards to Camp, the British General despatched 
Tarleton to Haw River, where the greatest numbers of these tories 
dwelt ; but Lieutenant Colonel Lee and General Pickens having 
been sent by Greene to frustrate this movement, and arriving first, 
Surprised and totally cut to pieces the royalists already up, and by 
the terrible example prevented others from rising. Tarleton himself 
narrowly escaped being intercepted, and was only saved by an 
express sent, by Cornwallis, to give him warning. 

A fortnight was now spent by the two armies in manoeuvreing in 
face of each other : the object of one being to approach more nearly 
the district occupied by the loyalists, and the aim of the other being 
to frustrate this. In the course of this fortnight Greene, fearing a 
surprise, changed his camp every night. His light troops, during the 
same period, signalized themselves by the most daring conduct, and 
were of incalculable value. At last, having received a portion of 
the reinforcements he had been waiting for, the American General 
resolved to gratify his adversary, whose great object, from the hour 
when he crossed the Catawba had been to bring General Greene to 
battle. On the 14th of March, accordingly, the American army 
advanced to Guildford Court-House, and there awaited the British, 
who were but eight miles off. 

The ensuing day broke clear and calm. Early in the morning, 
the approach of Cornwallis was made known, and Greene proceeded 
to draw up his men in order of battle. The hill on which Guildford 
Court-House stands, slopes downwards with an undulating sweep, 
for nearly half a mile to a little valley, through which runs a rivulet. 
Near the foot of this hill, and behind a fence, Greene posted his first 
line, consisting of two brigades of North Carolina militia. About 
three hundred yards in the rear of these, in a wood, half way up the 
hill, the second line, consisting of two brigades of Virginia troops, was 
drawn up. The third line was at the top of the hill, three hundred 
yards behind the second line, and was composed of the regulars, the 
Virginia brigade on the right, and the Mar^dand brigade on the left. 
Washington's cavalry guarded the extremities of the right flank : 
Lee's legion, with Campbell's riflemen, were on the left flank. 
These three able officers were stationed in the woods at the ends of 
the first line. The artillery, except two pieces, under Captam Sin- 



BATTLE OF GUILDFORD COURT-HOUSE. 135 

gleton, which were pushed forward in front of the first line, was 
with the regulars, at the top of the hill. 

About one o'clock the British came in sight, and shortly after, the 
artillery of the two armies began the action. Cornwalhs, relying 
on the discipline and tried courage of his troops, resolved to trust the 
struggle to a single impetuous charge, and accordingly, having formed 
his line of battle, pushed his columns across the brook, and the dif- 
ferent corps, deploying to right and left, were soon formed in line. 
The instant this was done, they began to advance. Greene had 
hoped that the militia, protected by the fence, would at least be able 
to give the enemy two or three fires before they fied ; but the impo- 
sing front and the loud huzzas of the approaching foe, struck a panic 
to their hearts : and when the grenadiers, throwing in a deadly vol- 
ley, levelled their bayonets and rushed on, the militia, without 
waiting for the shock, fled, throwing away their still loaded guns. 
In vain Lee spurred among them, and endeavored to allay their 
terror ; in vain other officers exhorted and threatened : the fugitives 
could not be stopped, but flung themselves, mad with fear, into the 
woods. Cheering as they advanced, the British now poured onwards, 
and soon came up with the second line. But here they met a 
momentary check. Undismayed by the flight of the North Caro- 
linians, the gallant Virginians, sheltered, in part, behind the trees, 
kept up a galling and incessant fire. In numerical force, however, 
their assailants were far superior, and at last, the right flank began 
to give ground. It did not, however, fall back directly, but swung 
around, as on a pivot, on its other extremity. There, on the left, 
the retiring forces of Lee and Campbell, assisting the militia, main- 
tained the battle with stubborn resolution, and as yet did not yield 
an inch. 

By the retreat of the right of the second line, however, a portion 
of the third and last line, consisting of Gunby's first Maryland 
regiment, was exposed to the British, who now came dashing up the 
hill, assured of victory. But here, for the first time, they met vete- 
rans, like themselves. A shattering volley made them recoil, and 
before they could recover themselves, the bayonet was upon them. 
Tliey broke and fled. Could Gunby have been now sustained, the 
rout wouH have been complete. But his presence was wanted to 
arrest ruin and disaster in another quarter : for while he had been 
sustaining his position, the left of the second line, after a gallant 
resistance, had finally given way, like the right, and fallen back on the 
second Maryland regiment, forming the left of the third line. This 
gave way shamefully at the first onset. But, at this crisis, Gunby 



136 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

wheeled his little band through a belt of saplings to his left, 
and came unexpectedly on the victorious British. A desperate 
struggle ensued. At last, Washington galloped to the rescue with 
his cavalry, and the enemy began to waver, on which Gunby's 
regiment threw in the bayonet. The shock was irresistible. The 
British fled, pursued by the Americans, and the day would have 
been irretrievably lost, if Cornwallis, desperate at approaching 
defeat, had not opened his artillery on the driving mass of fugitives 
and pursuers, and by the sacrifice of foe and friend alike, arrested the 
torrent. 

That part of the British force first repulsed by Gunby, had now 
rallied : the wreck of the battalion, defeated on the left, was being 
gathered and re-formed, and soon nearly the whole British force 
was again in the field, though shattered and disheartened. Corn- 
wallis, resolute to conquer, prepared to renew the attack. With 
disciplined troops, Greene would not have feared for the result. But 
the conduct of more than half his men had been so digraceful that 
he thought it best not to hazard the day further ; and accordingly 
drew off, retiring in good order beyond Reedy Fork, where he 
halted three miles from the field of battle. Waiting here, until he 
had collected his stragglers, he then retreated to his camp at 
Troublesome Creek. The last to leave the field of battle were Lee 
and Campbell, who continued skirmishing long after all others had 
retired. 

In this battle, the loss of the Americans was two hundred and 
seventy, of which the principal part fell on the regulars. The 
British lost nearly six hundred, a fourth of their number. The vic- 
tory was unquestionably with Cornwallis, though the Americans 
suffered rather a repulse than a defeat. In its effects, however, the 
battle of Guildford Court-House answered very nearly the purposes 
of a triumph for the Americans. " Another such victory," said 
Fox, in the House of Commons, " would ruin the British army." 
Immediately after the battle, Cornwallis began retreating, and when 
Greene, a few days subsequently, pushed forward Lee to harass his 
rear, this retreat became a virtual flight. Abandoning his wounded, 
Cornwallis retired with such precipitation, that the American Gene- 
ral, notwithstanding he urged the chase with all his speed, could 
not overtake the fugitive. 

After a painful march. Lord Cornwallis reached Wilmington, on 
the 7th of April. Here he called a council of officers, to decide 
whether to advance on Virginia, or retreat towards South Carolina. 
Considerable diversity of opinion prevailed, but on the whole, a 



CAPTURE OP THE BRITISH POSTS. IS7 

majority favored the advance on Virginia. Accordingly, after resting 
his troops for about three weeks, the British General directed his 
march on Petersburg. In this emergency, Greene hesitated for a 
while what course to take. If he followed Cornwallis into Virginia, 
he abandoned the Carolinas to their fate : if he returned to the Caro- 
linas, he left Virginia an easy prey to Cornwallis. He reflected 
that the line of posts which the English had established from Ninety 
Six to Charleston, was the real base of their operations, and that if, 
by returning to South Carolina, he could wrest them from the enemy, 
their loss would be a greater evil to CornwaUis, than any conquests 
elsewhere could compensate. Besides, the militia positively refused 
to follow CornwalUs into Virginia, and thus abandon their own 
homes to destruction. Moreover there was in a return to South 
Carolina a boldness which might lead the enemy to believe Greene 
was acting from secret reasons, which they could not comprehend. 
Actuated by these reasons, the American General abandoned the 
pursuit of Cornwallis, and retracing his steps, shifted the seat of war 
from North to South Carohna. 

The wisdom of this decision was vindicated by the result. Corn- 
wallis, after ravaging a portion of Virginia, found himself, at last, 
assailed by a new army, at a vast distance from his base, and being 
equally unable to retreat or advance, was compelled to shut himself 
up in Yorktown, where he fell a comparatively easy prey to the 
Americans. Greene, on the contrary, by his return to the south, 
inspired the patriots there with renewed courage ; while the royal 
forces, and the loyalists were correspondingly depressed. Leaving 
Cornwallis for the present, we shall follow the fortunes of Greene. 

On the 5th of April, 1781, the American General began his march 
to Camden, his intention beirg to force Lord Rawdon, the successor 
of Cornwallis, to abandon that post. Lee, with his legion, was sent 
in advance, with orders to join Marion. These two officers had 
acted together the preceding year in the attack on Georgetown ; 
and they now united to reduce Fort Watson, one of the chain of 
British posts to which we have just alluded. On the 22nd of April, 
after eight days siege, the place surrendered. On the 12th of the 
succeeding month, these two leaders reduced another of these posts, 
Fort Motte ; and three days after. Fort Granby capitulated to Lee. 
That active officer now proceeded to the neighborhood of Augusta, 
where, joining his legion to the forces of Pickens, who commanded 
a body of mihtia there, the two leaders succeeded in compelling the 
British garrison at the place to capitulate on the 5th of June. 
Marion, in the meantime, had marched on Georgetown, which was 
18 M* 



138 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

evacuated by the enemy, on his approach. In this manner, the 
chain of forts forming the base of the English army's operations, 
was gradually broken up. 

Immediately after detaching Lee, Greene, with his army reduced 
to about eleven hundred men, made his appearance at Hobkirk Hill, 
a mile from Camden. On the 25th of April, Lord Rawdon, who, 
bold and able, was no despicable successor of Cornwallis, sallied 
out to attack him. Greene had taken a strong position, which he 
had partly entrenched ; but Rawdon, making a circuit, came down 
on his left flank, which was exposed. The English marching com 
pact in single column, Greene resolved to redeem the day by assail- 
ing them on both flanks, while Washington should turn their right 
and assault them in the rear. The charge of the Americans was so 
fierce that the British gave way at first, and a terrific fire of grape- 
shot on their rear, from an American battery, increased their 
disorder. Rawdon, as a last resort, called up his reserves, who, 
nothing intimidated, advanced with tumultuous huzzas ; this restored 
the spirits of the others, and for a while the two armies, meeting in 
mutual shock, swayed alternately to and fro. At last a Maryland 
regiment gave way. The panic spread infectiously through the 
whole line. Several attempts were made by the officers to rally, 
but in vain : the English bayonet allowed no respite : the retreat 
became general. Washington, who had gained the British rear, 
finding his companions retiring, was forced in turn to abandon the 
day, though not until he had secured several prisoners. Greene, 
after his repulse, retired on Gum Swamp, about five miles from the 
field ; Rawdon fell back to Camden, in which place he shut him- 
self up. In this afl'air the British lost two hundred and fifty-eight, 
in killed, wounded and missing ; the Americans about an equal 
number. 

It was Rawdon's desire to retain Camden as the centre of his 
operations ; but the capitulation of Fort Watson, together with the 
threatened loss of Forts Motte, Granby and Orangeburg, all posts 
situated in his rear, made it necessary to retire on Charleston. Ac- 
cordingly, on the 9th of May, he rased the fortifications, and aban- 
doned the place. Receiving intelligence on his retreat of the capture 
of the three forts mentioned above, he continued his retrograde move- 
ment to Eutaw Springs. In the meantime Greene, perceiving that his 
adversary had abandoned the upper coimtry, marched on Ninety- 
Six, intending first to reduce that post, the only one left to the King, 
and then follow up the fugitives. But the fort being unusually 
strong, could only be taken by regular approaches, and in the inter 



THE BATTLE OP EUTAW SPRINGS. 139 

val Rawdon, having been reinforced with three regiments from 
Ireland, felt himself sufficiently able to advance to its relief. Greene, 
hearing of his approach with a superior force, resolved to hazard an 
assault, in hopes to carry the place thus ; but he was repulsed with 
loss ; and now, no other resource bemg left, he broke up his camp 
and retreated. Rawdon, on his arrival at Ninety-Six, finding the 
place not tenable against a long continued siege, abandoned it, and 
thus the British became dispossessed of their last post in the upper 
country. The royal leader now retired to Orangeburg, and Greene 
took possession of the heights of the Santee. In these positions the 
two hostile armies continued during the hot and sickly season that 
ensued, the usual attendant of a Carolina summer. It was during 
this momentary respite that Colonel Hayne was executed at Charles- 
ton, on the 10th of August, 1781, for having borne arms on the side 
of the Americans, after signing the deceitful declaration of Sir Henry 
Clinton. The tragic story is familiar to all, and we will not rehearse 
it here. It lent additional fury to the already savage strife, giving 
a keener poison to the barbed and envenomed arrows of war. 

In the beginning of September, on the first symptoms of relaxa- 
tion in the excessive heat, Greene, now reinforced by the neighbor- 
ing militia, left his camp -and began to push the enemy back on 
Charleston. The British retired step by step, forced by the skilful 
manoeuvres of their antagonist, until, on the 7th of September, they 
made a temporary stand at Eutaw Springs. Here, on the next day, 
Greene attacked them. The royal commander formed his troops in 
two lines ; the American leader placed his militia first, and support- 
ed them behind with regulars. At first the battle was well con- 
tested on both sides, but finally the American militia gave way ; on 
this the English left, too eager to pursue, broke the continuity of 
their Ime by advancing. Greene saw the favorable crisis, and 
instantly precipitating his tried veterans on the gap in the line, the 
whole British army, struck with sudden panic, gave way, corps 
tumbling over corps, in their haste to reach their entrenchments. 
Upwards of five hundred of them had already been taken prisoners. 
Suddenly a portion of the fugitives reached a stone house, into 
which, with the quickness of thought, they threw themselves, others 
rallied behind the garden palisades, others in a thick copse wood 
close by. This happy movement saved the British army from 
utter ruin. The retreat was checked : the battle began anew. But 
all the eftbrts of the Americans to dislodge the enemy from their 
strong position were unavailing : and in the end they drew off their 
forces, after having suffered terribly in the contest to gainposfession 



140 THE WAR OF THE REVOLUTION. 

of the house. The loss of both parties was very severe in this 
action : the Americans had five hundred killed, wounded and miss- 
ing ; the English, eleven hundred. 

This battle may be considered the virtual termination of the war 
in the south, as the capture of Cornwallis, about the same time, 
concluded that in the north. Skirmishes continued to occur fre- 
quently between the outposts of the two armies ; but the British 
after this were never able to make any considerable stand. The 
spell of their supremacy was broken; their own confidence deserted 
them ; and the population, in all sections of the state, deeming the 
royal cause ruined, openly joined the Americans. After the battle, 
the English retired to the vicinity of Charleston, and for the rest of 
the war confined themselves to their strong posts. Less than two 
years had passed since CHnton vauntingly wrote home that the 
Carohnas were permanently annexed to the crown; and in that 
time the genius of a single man, aided by the exertions of a portion 
of the inhabitants, had redeemed the conquered state. The admira- 
ble conduct of Greene, throughout the whole of this contest, earns 
for him in history the first rank after Washington as a military 
commander. Equal to every emergency, whether of disaster or 
success, he never lost the even balance of his mind ; and by his un- 
dismayed front supported the hopes, and re-kindled the confidence 
of the desolated south. Beginning his career with but the wreck of 
an army, he closed at the head of a body of the best disciplined 
troops in America. His forces, in this period of time frequently fluc- 
tuated from a General of Division's command to that of a Colonel's ; 
yet he never could be entrapped at odds by his foe. Though often 
repulsed, he was never ruinously defeated ; and even his checks he 
managed to transmute into virtual victories, by the alembic of his 
genius. Whether he retreated or advanced, he was in the end the 
winner. 




CAITOAB OF THE GENERAL MONK BY TilK ilVDEll ALI^'i 



BOOK V 



TO THE CLOSE OP THE CONTEST, 




HE fourth act of the revolutionary 
drama had now closed, and, like all 
the preceding ones, though opening so 
promisingly for England, had ended iii 



^^^t defeat and'gloom. The battle of Tren- 

'^^''^^^^^ ton had first checked the career of her 

arms, when apparently in the full tide 

^^^^..^^^^^^^^.^^^^^^ of irresistible conquest. The capture 

of Burgoyne had nex7 followed, rendering abortive her designs on 
the eastern states. The battle of Monmouth, in the succeedmg year, 



142 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

nad taught Clinton that, in the north, he must confine his acquisi- 
tions to the territory immediately around the city of New York. 
The expedition against the south, the last resort of the ministry, had 
also failed. It now remained but for the proud army of Cornwallis 
to be annihilated, to convince all, even the most obstinate, that the 
conquest of America was a hopeless task. Already this event cast 
its weird shadow ahead. But, before we enter on the story of that 
transaction, so glorious for the Americans, and so decisive in termi- 
nating the war that it may be regarded as the final catastrophe of 
the drama, it is necessary to go back a period in our history, and 
resuming the course of events in the north, bring them down to the 
present time, in order that the stream of narrative hereafter mav 
flow clear and unchecked. 

For two years subsequent to the battle of Monmouth, the military 
operations in the north were comparatively tame and unproductive. 
In part, this was the result of the want of troops, money and provi- 
sions on the American side, the causes for which we shall explain 
more at length during the course of this chapter. But in part also 
it was owing to a general disposition to await the course of events 
in the south. The rival armies, in fact, during these two years, may 
be said to have stood at gaze, like opposite factions in an amphithe- 
atre, watching the result of a combat between two formidable 
champions on the stage. As one side triumphed its friends took 
new hope : as success crowned the other they desponded. For a 
portion of this period, moreover. Sir Henry Clinton was actively 
engaged in person in the south, and those he left in command at 
New York thought the number of their troops insufficient for offen- 
sive operations. For most of this time, therefore, the war was but a 
war of skirmishes. It is owing to this that we can consider the 
action of the revolutionary struggle as forming a complete dramatic 
whole, of which each period naturally grows out of the preceding, 
the story advancing with accelerated interest and increasing in im- 
portance until the climax is reached in the capture of Cornwallis. 

The stand taken by France in favor of the colonies resulted 
eventually, as the EngHsh Cabinet had feared, in drawing Spain and 
Holland into the contest against Great Britain. All these powers 
consulted rather their own passions and interests than those of 
America in thus embarking in her cause; and more than once it was 
to be feared that they would, on gaining their ends, desert her and 
retire from the conflict. For the first two years of the alliance. 
France occupied herself in contending with England for supremacy 
in the West Indies and on the European seas, the abortive expedi- 



NAVAL BATTLES. 



143 



tion of d'Estaing being the only one she sent to tht5 aid of her 
repubhcan ally. It is foreign to our present purpose to narrate the 
different encounters between the English and French fleets, or to 
describe the siege of Gibraltar, these being events more properly 
belonging to European history. The rise and history of the armed 
neutrality we shall, in hk3 manner, pass over. 




COMMODORE JOHN PAUL JONBS 



A subject more germain to our theme is the story of our own 
naval successes during most of the war. From the first collision 
between the colonies and mother country, innumerable privateers 
had swarmed the ocean ; the damage done to British commerce by 
which has been computed at a hundred millions. One of the first 
acts of Congress had been to establish a few national armed ships. 
This force, though small, had proved very efficient, and lost nothing 
in comparison even with the vaunted English navy. The various en- 
counters between the American and British vessels would be too 
numerous to mention in detail. A few will suffice to show the spirit 
with Avhich the strife was carried on at sea. On the 7th of March, 
1778, Captain Biddle, in a thirty-six gun frigate, accompanied by foui 
smaller armed ships, fell in with a royal man-of-wai of sixty-foui 
guns and engaged her. The other American vessels could not come 



144 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

into action, and hence Captain Biddle's flag ship had to bear the 
brunt of the fight. Nobly did she maintain her part. Firing three 
broadsides where her adversary did one, she showed no signs of 
succumbing, when, about twenty minutes after the battle began, she 
suddenly blew up. Only four of her crew were saved, and these 
could never explain the cause of the disaster. Her gallant and chiv- 
alrous commander perished in her ; but the country, even after the 
lapse of seventy years, has not ceased to regret his fate. Another 
naval conflict, even more remarkable, ^vas fought on the 22nd of 
September, 1779, between the Bon Homme Richard and the Sera- 
pis. In this conflict, Paul Jones, in command of the former ship, 
after two hours hard fighting, during which his own vessel was 
reduced to a sinking condition, forced his antagonist, though superior 
in weight of metal, to surrender. This action occurred in sight of 
the English coast, and is universally regarded, on account of the 
obstinacy with which it was fought, as one of the most memorable 
in history. Another celebrated action was the one between the Hy- 
der Ah and General Monk in Delaware Bay, April the 8th, 1782. 
The Monk had been ravaging the commerce of the bay for some 
time, when Lieutenant Barney in the Hyder Ali, left Philadelphia 
to chastise the insolent foe. The Monk struck, with a loss of twenty 
(dlled and thirty-six wounded. The Hyder Ali had four killed and 
eleven wounded. The naval successes of America filled Europeans 
with astonishment; accustomed to see English ships nearly always tri- 
umph over those of equal force belonging to other nations, they 
could not understand why a handful of rude colonists, settled at the 
other end of the world, should suddenly attain such a superiority at 
sea. But they did not examine the subject, or their wonder would 
have ceased. The American mercantile marine had long nourished 
a hardy, brave and daring set of seamen, who, on finding their 
peaceful vocation destroyed by the war, naturally crowded the pri- 
vateers and national armed ships as their only remaining source of 
livelihood. Other and richer nations might build ships, but they 
were sure to want men afterwards: the Americans had the men, and 
only required the ships. In this single fact lies the whole secret of 
our naval superiority then and since. 

The alliance with France had as yet not only proved of little ser- 
vice to America, but on the contrary, in one respect at least had 
injured her prospects. We allude to the fatal indifference towards 
the carrying on the war which pervaded the country as soon as the 
alliance became known. Regarding victory as now certain in the 
end, the citizens began to intermit their exertions and sacrifices ; and 
il was no common occurrence even to hear leading patriots say that 



MUTINY IN THE AMERICAN CAMP. 

France hereafter would bear the whole burden of the war. Added 
to this the continental money continued depreciating. The army 
thought itself neglected by Congress, and indeed was ; but Congress 
was less to blame than the states, to whom it appealed in vain. The 
enthusiasm which had distinguished the first years of the contest 
had entirely disappeared ; and all classes, with the exception of a 
few leading men in each, were become mercenary, selfish and even 
criminally indifferent. Hence it was that during the whole of the 
years 1779 and 1780, Washington was unable to undertake any 
enterprise of importance ; for with an army decreasing continually 
by the expiration of enhstments, and impossible to be recruited to 
any extent, in consequence of the apathy of the public mind, it 
would have been madness to have engaged in a war of offence. 
The American General, therefore, contented himself with maintain- 
ing his lines on the Hudson, West Point being the key to his posi- 
tion. He often experienced the greatest difficulty in victualling 
his troops, but his skill and perseverance finally overcame every 
obstacle. The manner in which he triumphed in this emergency, 
and held his army together, is, perhaps, a higher proof of his ability 
than gaining a pitched battle would have been, in the ordinary 
course of European warfare. 

The winter of 1 779-80, was particularly severe. The pay of an offi- 
cer was now scarcely sufficient to buy him a pair of shoes : that of a 
private had depreciated, of course, in an equal ratio. Few persons were 
willing to make contracts to the government for supplies of any kind ; 
and of the few entered into, by far the larger portion was unfulfilled. 
At length a mutiny broke out among the Connecticut troops : two regi- 
ments paraded under arms, declaring their fixed resolution to return 
home, or procure food by force. The intelligence of these disorders 
reaching New York, Knyphausen, who commanded there during 
Clinton's absence in the south, caused a number of printed declara- 
tions to be circulated in the American Camp, inviting the disaffected 
to join the royal standard. But though justly exasperated against 
their country for her neglect, the mutineers were not prepared to 
betray her, or desert the principles they had sworn to assert. Not 
a man, it is believed, went over to the enemy in consequence of this 
invitation. The mutiny itself was finally quelled by the exhortations 
of the officers. In the meantime, however, Knyphausen, not to lose 
what he thought so favorable a chance, had made a descent into 
New Jersey, with five thousand men : but instead of being joined 
as he had expected, by a large number of malcontents, he found the 
soldiers marching with zeal to oppose him, and the inhabitants 
19 N 



145 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

taking arms on all sides. He soon found it advisable to retreat to 
Elizabethtown Point, opposite Staten Island. While he was at this 
place, Clinton returned from .his victorious career at the south, and 
immediately despatched a reinforcement to Knyphausen, who now 
advanced to Springfield. Here a sharp skirmish occurred between 
him and an inferior body of Americans, under General Greene. The 
latter Avere repulsed, on which Knyphausen burned the town. But 
the resistance he had met, convincing him that the hopes he had 
formed were illusive, he retired the next day for New York. The 
error into which he fell on the occasion of this mutiny, had been a 
common one with the royal Generals during the war, who persisted 
in judging of America as they would of Europe: and hence were 
continually expecting that the depreciation of the currency, the 
increasing discontent among the army, and the inevitable subsidence 
of the popular enthusiasm, would give them eventually an easy 
conquest. 

The intelligence of the fall of Charleston, which reached the north 
before the end of May, spread gloom and terror through camp and 
Congress. Fortunately, however, an event soon occurred which 
partially restored confidence. This was the return of the Marquis 
La Fayette from France, with the intelHgence that a French land 
and naval force was on its way to America. Accordingly, in July, 
a fleet of ten armed ships accompanied by thirty-six transports, and 
six thousand soldiers, arrived at Rhode Island. They brought infor- 
mation that a second fleet, with more troops, was expected soon to 
sail from the harbor of Brest. The fleet was commanded by the 
Chevalier de Terney : the army by the Count de Rochambeau. A 
general enthusiasm succeeded their arrival, and a vigorous campaign 
against the British posts was projected. To compliment the French, 
Washington recommended to his officers to place a white relief on 
the American cockade. In the midst of these sanguine hopes, how- 
ever, the news arrived, that the transports, with the second portion 
of the French army, was blockaded in Brest : and in , an instant all 
the visions of a brilliant campaign vanished, the forces of Rocham^ 
Deau and Washington being too small to begin offensive operations 
with any prospect of success. In the meantime, however, the 
American General lost no opportunity of propitiating his allies. 
Conferences were also held as to the best plan of conducting the 
war. Washington had met Terney and Rochambeau at Hartford, 
in Connecticut, for this purpose, on the 21st of September, 1780, 
when, during his absence, a conspiracy for betraying West Point to 
the enemy was discovered, and fortunately frustrated. The plot 



TREASON OP ARNOLD. 147 

came so near success, however, that its failure almost appears the 
result of a direct interposition of Providence. 

West .Point was the key to the Highlands, and considered impreg- 
nable. It guarded the communication between the eastern and 
middle states, and hence, as well as on account of its convenience as 
a central depot, had been chosen as the depository of immense stores. 
Its possession, in more than one respect, therefore, would be advan- 
tageous to the British : and might even be the cause of total ruin 
to the American arms. The traitor who proposed to surrender it 
to Clinton, was the same Arnold, of whose headlong bravery at 
Quebec and Saratoga we have already spoken. This General had, 
hke many others, scarcely received his deserts from Congress ; but 
instead of emulating the patriotism of Schuyler, he resolved on a 
plan of revenge. Accordingly, a year before, and while in com- 
mand of Philadelphia, he had opened, under an assumed name, a 
correspondence with Clinton. In Philadelphia, he married a Miss 
Shippen, a young, gay, and beautiful woman, of habits even more 
extravagant than his own, and of political principles directly opposed 
to those which the wife of an American Major General would be 
presumed to possess. Indulging in an expensive style of living, he 
soon began to want means : to obtain these, he engaged in priva- 
teering, which proved unsuccessful. At last, harassed by his 
debts, he resorted to fraud and peculation, to conceal which he 
exhibited false accounts against the government. The result w as, 
a refusal to allow his demands. This excited him to some very 
reprehensible acts and words against the public and Congress. 
These produced a court-martial on charges preferred by the Gover- 
nor of Pennsylvania. By this body he was sentenced to be 
reprimanded by the Commander-in-chief, and the sentence was car- 
ried into execution. 

The proud soul of Arnold burned at this indignity, and he resolved 
on a signal vengeance ; but, concealing his base designs, he applied 
for the command of West Point. After some solicitation Washing- 
ton, who had always considered him an efficient officer, yielded to 
his request. Arnold now immediately resumed his correspondence 
with Clinton, and proceeded so vigorously in his treasonable pur- 
poses, that a price was soon agreed on between him and the British 
General for the surrender of the post. The absence of Washington, 
at Hartford, was chosen as a suitable time for the infamous act. It 
being necessary, however, to arrange some preliminaries. Major 
Andre, Adjutant General of the British army, a young, amiable and 
accomplished officer, was despatched by CUnton to hold a private 



148 



THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 



interview with Arnold, without the American Unes. Andre ascended 
the Hudson in the Vulture sloop of war, and the parties met, at the 
house of a Mr. Smith, on the 21st of September, 1780, but daybreak 
surprising them, in the midst of their conversation, it became neces- 
sary for Andre to remain until the evening ; and during the interval 
he was concealed, of necessity, within the American lines. At night 
the boatman who had brought him off, refused to carry him back to 
the Vulture, that vessel having dropped down the river during the 




CAROBX Of MAJOS ABroUC. 



preceding day, to avoid an American battery on shore. Andre now 
attempted to make his way to New York by land, to facilitate which 
purpose, Arnold furnished him with a pass, under the assumed 
name of John Anderson. Andre passed the American lines in safety, 
but was stopped on the second day of his journey, almost within 
sight of the British posts, by three militia men. It is probable that 
ordinary tact would have sufficed to quiet their suspicions, and pre- 
vent further molestation ; but, losing his presence of mind, he suf- 
fered himself to reveal his rank and nation, before learning that of 
his interrogators ; and then, on discovering his mistake, he offered 
such extravagant remuneration for his release, that the suspicions 
of his captors were still more fully excited. On searching Andre's 
person^ his papers were found in his boot. These were in Arnold's 
hand vriting, and contamed a description of the defences at West 



DEATH OP MAJOR ANDRE. 149 

Point, with an estimate of the number of men required to man them. 
On detecting these documents, the miUtia men conducted him to 
Colonel Jameson, their commandant, the superior officer of all the 
scouting parties of militia employed on the lines. Here Andre asked 
leave to write a note to Arnold, in which, under his assumed name 
of Anderson, he informed the traitor of his own arrest ; intelligence 
so timely to Arnold, that, on receiving it, he called his barge, and 
rowed at once to the Vulture. Having despatched this note to his 
confederate, Andre wrote and forwarded a letter to Washington. 
He signed this with his real name, enclosing the papers captured on 
his person, and endeavoring to prove that he had not come as a spy 
within the American lines. Meantime Washington, little suspecting 
this foul treason, had returned from Hartford and crossed to West 
Point. Not finding Arnold there, he re-crossed to head-quarters, 
and here received Andre's letter. The cause of Arnold's disappear- 
ance was now explained. . But forty -eight hours had elapsed since 
the arrest of Andre, and it was now too late to overtake the traitor, 
who, by this time, was on his way, safely in the Vulture, to New 
York. 

At first Washington was confounded by the intelligence of Ar- 
nold's treason, not knowing to what extent its ramifications spread. 
A board of officers was immediately appointed to try Andre as 
a spy. Among the members of this board were Steuben and La 
Payette, both chosen because foreigners, to give a greater apparent 
impartiality abroad to the decision of the court. Andre was found 
guilty on his own confession, disdaining, like a gallant soldier, to 
make use of any quibble. The judges compassionated the unfortu- 
nate young man, and shed tears while they awarded the doom 
required by the laws of war. He was sentenced to be hung as a 
spy. Clinton, who loved Andre almost as a brother, made the most 
strenuous exertions to save his friend's life : he wrote to Washing- 
ton ; he solicited a conference ; he threatened retaliations of the most 
wholesale character in Carolina. But all was in vain. The unhappy 
victim was told to prepare for his death. In this awful crisis, he 
deported himself with the courage of a soldier, and reproved his 
servant for the emotion he betrayed. His only request was that he 
might be shot. To this Washington could not consent, consistently 
with his duty to his country : and, out of delicacy, declined to answer 
the request : though he wept at his inability to spare Andre this 
ignominious pain. On beholding the terrible machinery provided 
for his execution, the hapless young man, who had indulged a hop(; 
that his petition would be granted, shrank back, and exclaimed, 

N* 



150 THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 

" must I die in this manner ?'^ But immediately recovering himself 
he added, "it will be but a momentary pang,'^ and marched firmly 
forwards. Just before he suffered, he requested all to witness that 
he died like a brave man, and then, stepping lightly into the cart, 
endured his sentence, amid the tears and sobs of the spectators. 
Friend and foe have since united to deplore his untimely, though 
necessary fate. Yet, by a strange fallacy, the similar catastrophe 
that befel Captain Hale, of the American army, has been almost 
overlooked, and the sympathy that should have been divided among 
both, been exhausted on Andre. The one sleeps in a humble grave, 
almost forgotten by his countrymen ; the other long since was disin- 
terred and placed with martial pomp in the sacred gloom of West- 
minster Abbey. 

The subsequent career of Arnold forms an appropriate conclusion 
to this melancholy tale. He received the wages of his treason, and 
was given a command in the British army ; but honorable men 
shrank from his society, and wherever he went he was regarded as 
the murderer of Andre. He had the assurance to appear at court, 
but was insulted in the very presence of the King. At last he threw 
up his conmiission in disgust, and coming to Nova. Scotia, resumed 
his old profession of a merchant. He died universally execrated, as 
well by the nation he had served, as by the one he had betrayed. 

In October, 1780, Clinton despatched three thousand troops under 
General Leslie, to Virginia, where he was ordered to co-operate 
with Cornwallis, who was expected there by this period. He 
remained in Virginia but a short time, having received orders from 
Cornwallis to join him at Charleston. Here he arrived in time to 
unite with that officer in the pursuit of Greene through North Caro- 
Una, as we have before narrated. In the meantime, and while Greene 
was engaged in his masterly retreat, the American army at the north 
lay at Morristown, enduring all the rigors of the season, ill-fed and 
scantily clothed. Though there had been a plentiful harvest, the 
want of money in camp, rendered it almost impossible for Washing- 
ton to supply the soldiers with food : and recourse was had again to 
forced contributions. At this crisis, a mutiny broke out in the 
Pennsylvania line, the soldiers of which declared that they were 
retained after their terms of enlistment expired. Thirteen hundred 
of these men paraded under arms, on the night of the 1st of Janu 
ary, 1781, and declared their intention to march on Philadelphia, 
and demand jastice from Congress, at the point of the bayonet. 
Their officers attempted to quell the insubordination, but failed : and 
in the effort, one officer was killed and several wounded. As Gene 



CONTINENTAL MONEY. 151 

ral Wayne possessed great popularity among the mutineers, he was 
sent by Washington to exhort them to return to duty. But he, too, 
was unsuccessful. He even threatened to shoot the ringleaders, but 
they earnestly besought him not to force them to harm him : 
solemnly declaring their resolution to be unalterable to have their 
wrongs redresssed. They selected temporary officers, accordingly, 
and marched to Princeton, on their way to the capital. But here 
they were met by a deputation from Congress, who finally effected 
a compromise with them. Much as we may deplore the mutiny 
of these men, we cannot but own that, like the mutineers of the 
Connecticut line, the year before, they had great cause for complaint. 
Nor were they less firm than the former mutineers in their patriot- 
ism, for when Clinton, hearing of their revolt, sent emissaries to 
seduce them to his ranks, they deUvered the spies to Wayne to be- 
hung. They appear to have been goaded by the neglect and injus- 
tice of Congress to turn their arms against that body ; but never to 
have swerved in their devotion to the country. Their misguided 
conduct, however, might have led to the total ruin of the cause of 
independence. The nation felt this, and when, shortly after, a part 
of the Jersey line, infected hj their pernicious example, broke out 
into revolt, stringent measures were adopted, and the mutiny being 
put down, the ringleaders were executed. 

. As these disturbances were owing chiefly to the neglect of pay, 
this is the proper place to enter on the subject of the continental 
money, the depreciation of which had led to the inability of the 
federal government to liquidate its obligations to the army. Years 
had now passed since many of the soldiers had received a cent from 
Congress, and those who were paid, obtained their dues only in a 
depreciated currency. The financial condition of the country had 
been indeed on the verge of ruin for more than two campaigns. 
The cause for this was, that Congress had never provided any real 
fund for the expenses of the war. At the beginning of the contest, 
some of the bolder spirits had proposed raising a revenue by taxa- 
tion ; but as this was the very difficulty about which the colonists 
were quarrelling with Great Britain, it was thought wisest to waive 
this subject for the present. A loan was the next available resource : 
but who would lend to revolted colonies ? As a last resort. Congress 
issued bills of credit, for the payment of which, the faith of the con- 
federated states was pledged. The first emission was to the amouQt 
of two millions, and took place in June, 1775 : this was followed, 
in the succeeding month, by the issue of another million. At this 
period of the war, it was generally supposed that an accommodation 



152 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 




CONTINENTAL MONET. 



would speedily be arranged, and accordingly the bills circulated at 
par, and were readily taken. But when, in consequence of the con- 
tract entered into by England with Germany, to procure foreign 
mercenaries, it was thought necessary by Congress to extend the 
plan of defence, more and more bills were emitted, the issue extend- 
ing through the months of February, May, and July, 1776. By the 
close of this year there were twenty milhons in circulation. Up to this 
period, the bills had suffered no depreciation, but the successes of the 
British began to alarm prudent traders, as well as large capitalists, 
and though the victory at Trenton re-animated the hopes of the 
patriots, yet it did not preserve the credit of the paper currency. A 
long war was seen to be inevitable, and in consequence, the bills fell. 
The depreciation at first was gradual, but as the contest grew pro- 
tracted, and more bills were thrown on the market, the depreciation 
progressed at an alarming ratio. This depreciation began at differ- 
fent periods in different states, and extended not only to the conti- 
nental paper, but to the bills of a like character issued by the 
different states. The decline commenced early in the year 1777 ; 
and before the close of the year had reached two or three for one. 
In 1778, the depreciation rose to five or six for one : in 1779, twenty- 
seven or twenty-eight for one: in the early part of 1780, fifty or 
wx^^ for one, and towards its close, one hundred and fifty for one. 



VARIOUS PLANS FOR RAISING A REVENUE. 153 

By this time many would not take the paper on any terms. In 1781, 
the depreciation reached several hundreds for one, and the circula 
tion, even at this rate, was so partial that, from this period, the bills 
may be said to have disappeared from active use. 

A terrible crisis had now come in the financial affairs of the 
country. In the neighborhood of the American army there was no 
circulating medium of either paper or money, a real want of neces- 
saries ensued, and in consequence, as we have seen, the Connecticut, 
and subsequently, the Pennsylvania troops, broke out into mutiny. 
Congress did not know what remedy to apply for this evil. A 
legislative body may make paper loans, but cannot create a currency 
without credit. There was little gold or silver in the country, and 
what there was, private citizens hoarded. In vain various expedients 
were resorted to in order to establish a currency, and to check the 
accelerated depreciation of the continental bills. Unjust and absurd 
laws had been recommended to the states by Congress, for regulating 
the prices of labor, manufactures, and all sorts of commodities : for 
confiscating and selling the estates of tories : and for making legal 
money a tender in payment of debts. All these laws were, of 
course, found to be impracticable. Manufacturers ceased to work, 
when they found that the depreciation of the currency, to which the 
law affixed a nominal value, far above its real one, no longer re- 
munerated them. The large number of tory estates thrown on 
the market necessarily lessened their value. And the law which 
made the paper money a legal tender, was found in practice only to 
enable a dishonest debtor to pay his creditor a pound, which was 
not really worth a pound ; while it reduced to beggary all that large 
class of annuitants, such as widows, orphans, and aged persons, who 
had money out at interest and who received only worthless paper 
instead of their just dues. 

Fortunately for the country a very beneficial trade sprung up in 
the year 1780, with the French and Spanish West India islands, 
which continued through the war, and was the means of introducing 
much gold and silver into the states. The French army at New- 
port also disbursed large sums in specie. But these resources 
were still inadequate to the wants of the community. The army 
especially suffered. Taxation was resorted to in order to obtain 
relief, and the different states were called on for quotas of provisions 
and forage ; but there was a very general prejudice existing against 
this system of raising a revenue, and many of the quotas were never 
completely filled. Loans from private individuals were now endea- 
vored to be negotiated; but Congress met with but little success in 
20 



154 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 




ROBERT MOBBIS. 



this attempt : the patriotism of the few large capitalists being less 
than their confidence in the government, and the body of the people 
wanting means. A few, however, of the wealthy merchants came 
forward to the assistance of Congress, and among the most active of 
these was Robert Morris, of Philadelphia, who had been placed at 
the head of the bank, established at his suggestion, the year before. 
The finances of the confederacy were given into his control, and the 
public engagements hereafter met in gold and silver. A subsidy of six 
millions of livres was obtained from the King of France, and that 
monarch became security for ten millions more borrowed in the 
Netherlands. On the whole, the financial condition of the country, 
tmder the skilful measures now adopted, began to improve; but 
there was more than one crisis yet before the end of the war : and 
one of these came so near rendering the expedition against Cornwal 



i 



ACTION OFF CAPE HENRY. 155 

lis abortive, that but for the timely arrival of the specie remitted 
from the court of France, it is probable the triumphs of Yorktown 
would never have been achieved. The British ministry had long 
foreseen the approach of this financial tempest, and had indeed pro- 
tracted the contest, hoping to avail themselves of its aid. It appears 
little short of a direct interposition of Providence to behold the 
country saved in this extremity. But to return to the thread of our 
narrative. 

The beginning of the year 1781, which witnessed Greene's mas- 
terly retreat through North CaroHna, found Washingtoin apparently 
idle at his posts on the Hudson. But he was secretly busy never- 
theless ; and was straining every nerve to be able soon to strike a 
decisive blow. Meantime Clinton, finding himself censured for in- 
activity, projected an attempt on Virginia, and as a preliminary, 
despatched Arnold thither. That recreant General, in the execution 
of the task now allotted him, seemed desirous to add the title of 
bandit to that of traitor : and accordingly began to ravage the pro- 
vince with a ferocity unparalleled, respecting neither private nor 
public property, but plundering all alike. With twelve hundred 
men he landed at Westown, whence he proceeded to Richmond, 
where he destroyed immense quantities of rum, salt, tobacco, and 
other stores: and finally establishing himself at Portsmouth, he sent 
out parties on all sides to commit havoc and destruction, as the 
foul dragon in the German story reduced, with his breath alone, the 
surrounding districts to a blighted desert. 

When Washington heard of this rapine he conceived the project 
of capturing the traitor, and making him expiate on the gallows his 
offences against his country. Accordingly La Fayette, who had 
been detailed with twelve hundred men to reinforce Greene, was 
ordered to remain in Virginia and hem in Arnold from escape by 
land; while, at the same time, a proposition was made to the French 
Admiral at Newport to send his fleet and a thousand land troops to 
cut off Arnold's return by sea. Destouches, however, had already 
made up his mind that one line of battle ship and two frigates would 
be sufficient for the purpose. These accordingly were despatched 
on the 5th of February, but Arnold was so well posted as to defy 
attack. The squadron accordingly returned to Newport. It was 
now resolved, in a personal conference between Washington, Des- 
touches and Rochambeau, to embark eleven hundred French troops, 
and escort them with the whole fleet. This was accordingly done 
on the 8th of March. But on the 16th, the EngHsh fleet under Ar- 
buthnot, which had given chase, came up with the French off Cape 



156 



THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 




ACTION OFF CAPE HENRY. 



Henry : and, after an hour's combat, Destouches bore up and aban- 
doned the enterprise, returning the next day to Rhode Island. In 
this manner the traitor made his escape. 

It was well known to Clinton that the conquest of Virginia had 
become a favorite measure with the ministry at home. That rich 
and populous province had hitherto suffered but little from the war. 
[t was intersected with large and navigable rivers ; and in other re- 
spects afforded facilities for fleets. The plan of the ministry was to 
seize and fortify some point on its coast, both for the sake of a con- 
venient depot for shipping and to hold the province in check. It was 
determined if the colony could not be conquered that it should be 
ravaged. ' Clinton was well aware of these views, and prepared to 
second them. He had in consequence already despatched first Leslie, 
and after his removal, Arnold, to Virginia ; and now he proceeded to 
send General Phillips, with a force of two thousand men to reinforce 
Arnold. On the 26th of March he arrived in the Chesapeake, and 
soon forming a junction with Arnold, ravaged the country along the 
bay, burning four thousand hogsheads of tobacco in Petersburg 
alone. On the 9th of May the two Generals established themselves 
at this town, where shortly after General Phillips died. On the 20th 
of the same month, Lord Cornwailis arrived from Wilmington 
where we left him, after the battle of Guildford, in order that we 
might follow the fortunes of Greene. Being here joined by the forcefc 



MOVEMENTS OF THE ARMIES IN VIRGINIA. 15" 

lately commanded by Phillips, and a reinforcement of fifteen hun- 
dred men just arrived from New York, he was at the head of a very 
imposing force, and deeming the province at his mercy, began to 
trample it under the hoofs of military conquest. 

Virginia indeed was, at this period, in a pitiable condition, from 
which it seemed almost impossible to rescue her. The army of 
Cornwallis was about five thousand, all disciplined troops, many of 
them veterans. To oppose these. La Fayette had scarcely four 
thousand men, of whom three-fourths were militia. Besides these, 
however, there were six hundred men under Baron Steuben, who 
had been marching to the aid of Greene, but had been recalled, and 
were now on the south side of James River. Fortunately, also, 
Wayne had been despatched to reinforce La Fayette, and it now 
became the object of the latter, after having, by a forced march on 
Richmond, saved the stores there, to etiect a junction with his 
brother General. Meantime Cornwallis, who was very effective in 
cavalry, having mounted his troops without scruple from the stables 
of the Virginia gentlemen, despatched two expeditions, one under 
Tarleton, to Charlotteville, the other under Simcoe, to Point of Fork. 
Tarleton had nearly captured the Assembly, which was in session 
at the former place ; but the members fortunately were warned in 
time, and chiefly escaped, only seven being made prisoners. He 
destroyed, however, a large quantity of stores. Simcoe was less 
successful, the Americans having removed most of their stores from 
Point of Fork. All this time La Fayette had been engaged iii 
eifecting his junction with Wayne. Cornwallis, desirous of securing 
his opponent's stores, which had been removed from Richmond to 
Albemarle Old Court-House, took post between La Fayette and 
that place ; but the Marquis, by opening a road which had long 
been disused, and was regarded by the English as impassable, 
escaped from the snare. Cornwallis, on the next day, the 18th of 
June, fell back on Richmond. In a few days Steuben arrived to 
reinforce La Fayette, who had now nearly two thousand regulars. 
The British General, astonished to find so large a force concentrated 
with such rapidity against him, and indeed believing the troops of 
his enemy to be more numerous than they were, thought it prudent 
to retire to Williamsburgh, whither the Marquis cautiously followed 
him. Already the proud British leader had found " the boy," as he 
contemptuously called La Fayette, almost his match. 

As he entered Williamsburgh the rear of Cornwallis became 
engaged with the American van; but he had no desire to fight a 
battle, as he had just received orders from Clinton to send part of 



158 



THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE, 



his troops to New York, where his superior was in daily expectation 
of a combined attack on the part of the Americans and French. 
Accordingly, on the 4th of July, CornwalUs marched to a ford on 
the James River, and sent over part of his army to the opposite 
banks, in what is called the island of Jamestown. By the 7th, the 
wheel carriages and baggage had also crossed. At this crisis, La 
Fayette, supposing that the Avhole British army had passed over 
except the rear-guard, determined to assault them. This determina- 
tion Cornwallis had suspected, and indeed laid the snare for his 
enemy. Wayne, who had been sent forward to begin the attack, 
soon found himself opposed by overwhelming numbers ; but with 
his accustomed courage, he advanced, though with only eight hun- 
dred men, to the charge. The British stood amazed at this gallant 
daring. Fortunately La Fayette had, in the meantime, perceived 
his error, and sent a message to Wayne to retire, the light infantry- 
forming his cover as he did so. Cornwallis feared to pursue, lest he 
should be drawn into an ambush. In this action the Americans lost 
one hundred and eighteen in killed and wounded: the English 
seventy -five. In the night the*English General followed his baggage 
across to Jamestown, and shortly after proceeded to Portsmouth, 
where he embarked the troops required for New York. The trans- 
ports had not yet sailed, however, when he received a countermand 
from Chnton, who wrote that he had no longer any fear of an attack 
on New York. That General also ordered Cornwallis to establish 
himself firmly in Virginia ; and for this purpose, to occupy a suitable 
defensive post, capable of protecting ships of the line. Old Point 
Comfort and Yorktown were suggested ; but the former was found 
unsuitable, and the latter accordingly selected. Here, Cornwallis 
established himself m the latter part of the month of July, 1781, and 
began leisurely to fortify the place. Little did he think it was the 
net which would entangle him, and from which he should come out 
only with ruined fortunes. 

While these events were passing in Virginia, Washington, at the 
north, had been planning a combined attack on New York. At first 
he was sanguine of bringing over the French allies to the enterprise- 
but the receipt of large reinforcements by Clinton soon rendered the 
affair extremely hazardous. Moreover, the assistance of Admiral 
de Grasse, from the West Indies, was necessary, and as that officer 
declared his instructions forbade him to remain on the American 
coast after the middle of October, a period too short to permit the 
siege of New York, the undertaking was of necessity, though with 
great reluctance, abandoned. But Washington did not yield to 



THE ALLIED FORCES SURROUND YORKTOWN. 159 



i 



despondency. If he could not strike m one place, he was resolved 
to do so in another. All the energies of his mind were now devoted 
to secretly preparing an expedition against Cornwallis, with which 
to crush that General forever. His arrangements were soon per- 
fected, but in order to ensure success, it was necessary to deceive 
Clinton, else that General would have flown to the succor of York- 
town. Accordingly, Rochambeau marched with five thousand troops 
from Newport to the eastern bank of the Hudson, where Washing- 
ton effected a junction with him, and the two daily insulted the 
British lines, as if a siege was already preparing. Meantime letters 
were written, intended to be intercepted, full of hints as to the 
approaching investment. Engineers were also sent to reconnoitre 
the island of New York from the opposite shores. Reports of de 
Grasse's speedy arrival off Sandy Hook were circulated. Pretended 
preparations were made to establish a camp opposite Staten Island. 
Sir Henry Clinton was completely deceived. Even when Washing- 
ton had advanced to Trenton, the British General, thinking his 
adversary was only manoeuvreing to draw him from his lines, 
refused to stir from New York. At last the American leader 
received intelligence that de Grasse was off the coast. Instantly 
the army was put in motion, and advanced with great rapidity 
through Pennsylvania to the head of Elk. On the same day, the 
28th of August, 1781, de Grasse entered the Chesapeake. The 
snare was closing around Cornwallis. His star already waned low 
and lurid in the setting horizon. 

De Grasse immediately proceeded to blockade York River with a 
part of his force. Thirty -two hundred troops were then landed, 
under the Marquis St. Simon, which speedily effected a junction 
with La Fayette. This had scarcely been done, when Admiral 
Greaves, with the EngUsh fleet from the West Indies, of fourteen 
sail of the line, and his own squadron from New York, of five sail 
of the line, appeared off the Capes of Virginia, on which de Grasse 
put to sea, with his whole force, amounting to twenty -four sail of 
the line, in order to give him battle. After a partial engagement, 
however, night separated the combatants. The hostile squadrons 
manoeuvred in sight of each other for five days, at the end of which 
time, de Grasse returned to his former anchorage within the Capes. 
Here he found de Barras, who had l^^t Newport on the 25th of 
August, with the military stores, and heavy artillery, suitable for 
carrying on the siege ; and had, in consequence of de Grasse's 
demonstration, successfully eluded the British. Admiral Greaves» 
on approaching the Chesapeake, found himself in presence of so 



160 



THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 



superior a force, that he thought it advisable to bear away for New 
York. Long before his arrival there, however, Clinton had dis- 
covered the stratagem by which Washington had lulled his appre- 
hensions respecting the south. To save Cornwallis, he determined 
on an expedition against New London, which was accordingly exe- 
cuted with signal atrocity, under the command of Arnold, but 
without effecting the recall of the American army. Meantime, the 
French Admiral, after seeing the siege artillery and stores landed, 
despatched the light transports to bring Washington's army down 
from the Head of Elk to Annapolis. The allied forces, now twenty 
thousand strong, of which but a fifth part was militia, after this 
advanced to the vicinity of Williamsburgh, and closely invested 
Cornwallis, who, with an army of seven thousand, found himself 
beset on the land side by this invincible force, and on the sea by 
nearly thirty sail of the line. 

How different were the feelings of the combatants on either side. 
The continentals now trod with the elation of anticipated triumph, 
over the ground which they had, but a few years before, tracked 
with their fugitive blood. The British, lately so haughty and 
assured of conquest, gnashed their teeth with rage and despair, to 
find themselves hopelessly enclosed. But, before we proceed further, 
let us describe the real nature of their position. 

The town of York lies on the southern shore of the river of that 
name, at a spot where the banks are bold and high. On the oppo- 
site side, at the distance of a mile, is Gloucester Point, a strip of land 
projecting far into the stream. Both the town and point were occu- 
pied by Cornwallis, the communication being preserved by his 
batteries j while several British men-of-war lay under his guns, for 
the river was here deep enough for the largest ship of the line. 

By referring to the map a clear idea may be gained of the strength 
of Cornwallis's position. It will be seen that Yorktown is situated 
at the narrowest part of the peninsula formed by the York and James 
rivers, where the distance across is but eight miles. By placing his 
troops, therefore, around the village, and drawing about them a 
range of outer redoubts and field, works calculated to command this 
peninsula, Cornwallis had established himself in a position of great 
strength ; while, by fortifying Gloucester Point and maintaining the 
communication between it and Yorktown, he opened a door for the 
reception of supplies, and provided a way of escape in the last 
emergency. Yet still, when he considered the force of the Ameri 
cans, and his own comparatively scanty numbers, dark seasons of 
doubt affected even his composed soul. 



SIEGE OF YORiTOWN. 



16i 




YORKTOW.N. 



Having formed a junction with La Fayette, the alUed army, com- 
manded by Washington in person, moved down from WiUiamsburg 
to Yorktown ; and on the 30th of September occupied the outer 
lines of Cornwalhs, which that General had abandoned without a 
struggle. Two thousand men were detailed to the Gloucester side 
to blockade that post. The investment was now complete. 

It was not, however, until the night of the 6th of October that the 

Americans broke ground, within six hundred yards of the enemy's 

lines, the intermediate time having been employed in bringing up 

the stores and heavy artillery. By daybreak the trenches were 

sufficiently advanced to cover tiie men. In less than four days a 

sufficient number of batteries and redoubts had been erected to 

silence the fire of the enemy. On the 10th, (the day on which the 

British withdrew their cannon from the embrasures,) the red-hot balls 

of the allied batteries set fire to an Enghsh frigate and tnree large 

transports lying in the harbor. Cornwallis now began to despond. 

No succor had arrived from New York, and the allies were pushing 

the siege with extraordinary vigor. On the night of the 11th, the 

second paraUel was opened within three hundred yards of the 

British lines. These new trenches were flanked by two redoubts in 

possession of the enemy, who, taking advantage of the circumstance, 

opened several new embrasures, and kept up an incessant and 
21 o* 



162 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

destructive fire. It became necessary to carry these batteries by 
storm ; and the evening of the fourteenth was fixed for the purpose, 
one redoubt being assigned to the Americans and the other to the 
French. A noble emulation fired the soldiers of the respective 
nations as they advanced across the plain. La Fayette led the con- 
tinentals : the Baron de Viominel commanded his countrymen. The 
redoubt entrusted to the Americans was carried at the bayonet's 
point, the assailants rushing on with such impetuosity that the sap- 
pers had not time to remove the abattis and palisades. The French 
were equally courageous and successful, though, as their redoubt 
was defended by a larger force, the conquest was not so speedy, and 
their loss was greater. It was, at one time, currently believed that 
La Fayette, with the concurrence of Washington, had issued orders 
for every man to be put to the sword, in retaliation for the massacre 
at New London, a few weeks before ; but Colonel Hamilton, who 
took part in the assault, and who had ample means of knowing the 
truth, has publicly denied the statement. The redoubts were the 
same night included in the second parallel, and their guns, the next 
day, made ready to be turned against the foe. 

CornwaUis was now reduced to extremities. His works were 
crumbling under the shot of the first parallel, and in another day 
new trenches would open their fire at half the distance. In this 
emergency he resolved on a sortie, hoping thus to retard the comple- 
tion of the batteries in the second parallel. The enterprise was, at 
first successful, and the two batteries, which were now nearly com- 
pleted, fell into the hands of the foe ; but the guards from the 
trenches immediatetly hastening to the assistance of their fel- 
low soldiers, the enemy was dislodged and driven back into his 
works. The same day the second parallel opened several of its 
batteries. It was hoped that by morning every gun might be 
brought to bear. 

Having failed in his sortie, and knowing that his position was 
now untenable, the British General took the desperate resolution of 
crossing over to Gloucester Point in the night, and cutting his way 
through the blockading force there : then mounting his men on what- 
ever horses he could seize, to make a rapid march northward and 
join Sir Henry Clinton. By this movement he would abandon his 
sick and baggage ; but he would save himself the disgrace of a 
surrender. Boats were secretly procured, and the first embarkation 
reached the point safely and unperceived ; but, at this juncture, a 
violent storm arose, which drove the boats down the river. The 
tempest continued until daylight, when the enterprise was unavoid 



SURRENDER OF CORNWALLIS. 163 

ably given up, and the troops that had passed over re-crossed to the 
southern side. 

Thus foiled in his last hope, the usually buoyant soul of Cornwal- 
lis gave way to despair. He had continued to flatter himself that 
Clinton, knowing the strait he was in, would hurry from New York 
to his aid. As early as the twenty-ninth of September he had 
received a despatch stating that succor would sail on the 5th of 
October, but the 5th had long come and gone, and still, though the 
besieged watched with hourly increasing intensity, the welcome sails 
of the British fleet did not whiten the distant waters of the bay. 
More than two weeks had elapsed since the despatch was received. 
Where could Clinton be ? We may imagine the anxiety with 
which Cornwallis daily swept the horizon with his glass ; and the 
disappointment with which he beheld the green waste stretching 
unbroken to the sea-board. He had now played his last card. His 
works were like moth-eaten wood around him, and might be 
expected to tumble at any moment to the earth. His chances of 
escape were gone. It is said, that in the mortification and anguish 
of his soul, he shed tears, and expressed his preference for death 
rather than the ignominy of a surrender. 

But there was no resource. At ten on the morning of the 17th, 
accordingly, Cornwallis beat a parley, and proposed a cessation of 
hostilities for one day, in order to agree on terms for the surrender 
of Yorktown and Gloucester. Washington granted two hours for 
Cornwallis to prepare his proposals ; and, that no time might be lost, 
sent in his own. The answer of the British General rendering it 
probable that but little difliculty would occur in adjusting the terms, 
Washington consented to the cessation of hostilities. On the 18th 
the commissioners from the two armies met ; but evening arrived 
before they could agree except on a rough draft of the terms of 
surrender. These, however, Washington caused to be copied, and 
sent them early next morning to Cornwallis, determined not to lose 
the slightest advantage by delay. He further informed the British 
General that a definitive answer was expected by eleven o'clock; 
and that in case of a surrender, the garrison must march out by two 
in the afternoon. No resource being left, Cornwallis signed. 

It was a proud day for the war-worn troops of America, when the 
richly appointed soldiery of Britain marched out with dejected faces 
from their works, and in profound silence stacked their arms on the 
plain, in presence of the conquerors. By this capitulation more thau 
seven thousand prisoners, exclusive of seamen, fell into the hands of 
the allies. Among the captives were two Generals, and thirty-one 



Ifi4 



THE WAS OV INDEPENDENCE, 




SURKKNDrK OF COKNWALI.IS. 



field officers.' The army, artillery, arms, military chest, and pubhc 
stores were surrendered to Washington ; while the ships and seamen 
were assigned to Count de Grasse, the French Admiral. In addition 
to those made prisoners at the capitulation, the loss of the garrison, 
during the siege, was five hundred and fifty-two. The allied army 
lost about three hundred. The siege occupied eleven days to the 
opening of the treaty, and thirteen to the signing of the capitulation, 
there was a large body of Americans in Yorktown who had joined 
the British army, and Cornwallis endeavored to provide for their 
safety in the capitulation. But as^he subject belonged to the civil 
department, Washington rejected the article. The escape of these 
men was, however, humanely connived at; for a sloop of war was 
allowed to proceed to New York with despatches unsearched, and m 
her they embarked. On the very day when the capitulation was 
signed at Yorktown, Sir Henry Clinton sailed from Sandy Hook With 
seven thousand men to relieve CornwalUs ; but on the 24th, when 
off the capes of Virginia, having received intelligence of the surren- 
der, he altered his course for New York. 



EFFECTS OF THE SURRENDER OF CORNWALLIS. 165 

Before the siege began, a circumstance occurred which came near 
destroying the success of the campaign. Immediately after the arri- 
val of Washington at Williamsburg, the Count de Grasse, then lying 
in tlie Chesapeake, received intelligence that the British fleet, having 
been reinforced, was preparing to attack him again ; and considering 
his position unfavorable for a naval combat, he determined to put to 
sea for the purpose of meeting the enemy, leaving only a few frigates 
to continue the blockade of Yorktown. This resolution alarmed the 
Commander-in-chief; for, if the Count should be blown off the coast, 
the enemy might attain a temporary superiority on those waters, 
and CornwaUis be either succored or removed. La Fayette was 
called in at this emergency, and by his representations, seconded by 
the earnest remonstrances of Washington, the desiign was abandoned. 
Too much credit cannot be given to de Grasse for thus sacrificing 
his personal- glory to the success of the expedition. La Fayette, a 
few days before, had resisted a similar temptation to win renown. 
De Grasse, impatient of the delay of Washington, had urged his 
young countryman to storm the then unfinished works of CornwaUis, 
declaring that it was impossible for him longer to await the arrival 
of the Commander-in-chief. But, with the true spirit of a patriot, 
La Fayette refused to sacrifice the lives of his soldiers, when the 
capture of the enemy might be secured, without bloodshed, by the 
delay of a few days. 

The reduction of Yorktown filled the country with exultation. 
Addresses poured in on the Commander-in-chief from every quarter ; 
from state governments, cities, corporations and learned bodies. 
Congress returned thanks to Washington, to Rochambeau, and to 
de Grasse, as well as to the officers generally, and to the corps of 
artillery, especially to the engineers. They also ordered a monument 
to be erected on the scene of the surrender, commemorating the 
glorious event. Two stand of colors, of those yielded in the capitu- 
lation, were presented to Washington; two pieces of field ordnance 
to Rochambeau, and the permission of his monarch was solicited to 
bestow a similar gift on de Grasse. The whole body went in solemn 
procession to church, in order to return thanks to Almighty God for 
the success of the allied arms ; and a proclamation was issued, en- 
joining the observance of the 13th of December as a day of thanks- 
giving and prayer. 

This final catastrophe for the British arms may be regarded as the 
close of the revolutionary drama. From that hour England lost all 
heart for the contest. Seven years she had been occupied in the 
attempt to reduce her colonies ; and she was now further from hei 



166 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

purpose than before she drew her sword. The loss of Cornwallis 
paralyzed her forever. The war, though protracted for a year or 
more, was confined to a few predatory excursions in the vicinity of 
New York, and to the expiring struggles of the English in South 
Carolina. On their part also the Americans regarded the fall of 
Yorktown as decisive ; and calculating on a speedy and honorable 
peace, were content to rest on their arms. The remainder of the 
story, therefore, may be narrated in few words. 

After their signal victory, Washington would have persuaded de 
Grasse to further attempts on the continent of America, and pro- 
posed an expedition against Charleston as feasible and full of glory : 
but the French Admiral pleaded the instructions of his government 
not to remain on the coast later than the middle of October, and 
accordingly set sail for the West Indies.. Rochambeau, however, 
with the troops de Grasse had landed under St. Simon, as also with 
those he had himself brought from Rhode Island, was left behind, 
and took up his quarters at Williamsburg. The American troops 
belonging eastward of Pennsylvania, were transported by water to 
the head of Elk, and thence marched to cantonments in New Jersey 
near the Hudson, where they remained very generally until the 
conclusion of peace. 

The news of the capture of Cornwallis reached London on the 
25th of November, 1781, and caused general despair, although the 
ministry, at the instigation of the King, still declared their resolution 
to carry on the war. But the sense of the country was now against 
them. The struggle had already cost England one himdred thousand 
men, and seventy millions of money ; and the mercantile classes 
and country gentlemen began to regard it as a gulf which would 
swallow up their means interminably. The whigs in Parliament 
took courage, and renewed their assaults on the Cabinet with such 
vigor, that the ministerial majorities, constantly decreasing, dimin- 
ished at last, on the 22nd of February, to a single vote. At last 
the King consented that Lord North should resign, in order to 
make room for a Cabinet more favorable to peace. Thus the En- 
glish monarch found himself forced to submit to the alternative 
which his own minister had recommended four years before. But, 
in the meantime, what countless lives and treasures had been squan- 
dered to gratify the obstinacy or whim of that one man ! 

Peace, however, was not yet secured. The new ministry was 
made up of discordant materials, and before it could be brought to 
act on the subject, its head, the Marquis of Rockingham, died, and 
the Cabinet fell to pieces. A new ministry was finally arranged, 



THE TREATY OP PEACE SIGNED FINALLY. 167 

and the prospect of a termination of the war began to look more 
favorable, when suddenly an incident occurred which once more 
endangered everything. This was an intrigue, on the part of the 
French government, to prevent the recognition of American inde- 
pendence. The main purpose of that government, in becoming the 
ally of the colonies, had been to annoy her old rival ; and she 
deemed this would be best effected now, by leaving the question of 
independence an open one, and arranging a hollow truce, instead of 
a permanent peace, between Great Britain and America. She had 
nearly succeeded in this subtle scheme. Franklin even fell into the 
plot, and a treaty would probably have been prepared without any 
formal recognition of the independence of the colonies, had not Jay, 
arriving from Madrid to assist in the conferences, seen through the 
intrigue, and by a single bold resolution, cut the web of diplomacy, 
and disconcerted France. He wrote to the English ministry, ex- 
posing the trick of the Court of Versailles, and arguing that it was 
the interest of Great Britain to come out frankly and acknowledge 
the independence of the United States, as a preliminary to the 
treaty. The English Cabinet followed his suggestion, and the 
treaty now went on rapidly. 

Holland, in the meantime, had followed the example of France 
in recognizing the independence of America ; and on the Sth of 
October, 1782, concluded a treaty of amity and commerce with 
John Adams, the minister of the United States. He also obtained a 
loan of money from her about the same time. Spain retarded the 
negotiations for a season, by her abortive efforts to secure the ces- 
sion of Gibraltar ; but finding this impossible, she finally consented 
to accede to terms less favorable to herself. Some difficulty was 
experienced, on the part of America, in obtaining a share of the 
Newfoundland fisheries, in which France took little interest. All 
these things, however, were eventually arranged : and on the 20th 
of January, 1783, preliminaries were signed by France, Spain and 
Great Britain. Articles between Great Britain and her colonies had 
already been signed on the 30th of the preceding November. 
These treaties were proclaimed by Washington to his army on the 
19th of April, the eighth anniversary of the battle of Lexington. 

In February, 1783, Sweden and Denmark acknowledged the 
independence of the United States ; in March, Spain ; and in July^ 
Russia. At last, on the 3rd of September, 1783, the final treaty of 
peace was signed at Paris. This treaty recognized the independence 
af the revolted colonies ; gave them the right of fishery as of old 



168 THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. 

on the banks of Newfoundland ; secured to creditors the payment 
of debts heretofore contracted ; prohibited future confiscations, and 
recommended to Congress the restoration of former ones ; estabUshed 
the navigation of the Mississippi for both Enghsh and Americans ; 
and ordered all conquests made after the treaty to be restored. 
Thus the war, after more than eight ^rears of blood, was formally 
concluded, as it had virtually been for nearly two years. 

The army still remained together, however, and as Congress had 
no money to pay the soldiers before disbanding, it was feared that 
some difficulties would arise. It was indeed melancholy, that gal- 
lant men, who had fought the battles of their country for so many 
years, and who had endured privations almost incredible, should 
now be turned off without a penny, many to beg their Avay home. 
The officers were in a not less pitiable condition. In 1780, Congress 
had bestowed on them half pay for life, but nine states had neg- 
lected or refused to ratify the grant, and the law was regarded 
virtually a dead letter. In this emergency, in December, 1782, the 
officers petitioned Congress to repeal this law, and instead of half 
pay for life, to give full pay for five years, liquidating in the mean- 
time all arrearages. Congress hesitated at this act of bare justice. 
The officers, excited by the prospect of approaching want, began to 
threaten. A letter, full of inflammatory appeals, was privately cir- 
culated in the camp at Newburgh. All was tumult and recrimina- 
tion. Fortunately for the country, Washington was at head-quarters 
at this crisis, and interposing to allay the storm, he called the officers 
together and expostulated dispassionately with them. At his per- 
suasions they agreed to wait. He then addressed a letter to Congress, 
in which he so energetically advocated the justice ojf the claim that 
the pay for five years was bestowed. 

A like difficulty occurred with the soldiers. In October, 1783, 
Congress issued a proclamation that all persons who had enlisted for 
the war, were to be discharged on the 3rd of December. Large 
arrearages were due these veterans, but there was no money to 
discharge the debt. The prospect before them was gloomy in the 
extreme, and was heightened by what seemed ingratitude : accord- 
ingly the excitement and indignation grew, until a party of eighty 
marched from Lancaster on Philadelphia, and being joined by others, 
surrounded the Hall of Congress with fixed bayonets, and demanded 
that their just claims should be provided for in twenty minutes For 
three hours Congress was thus imprisoned. At last the members 
separated in safety to re-assemble at Princeton. Washington, hear 



RESIGNATION OF WASHINGTON. 169 

ing of the tumult, despatched a strong force to check the insurgents ; 
but before its arrival the disorder had subsided. The future history 
of the private soldiers of the Revolution is soon told ; but the story- 
is a painful one, and we would willingly have excused ourselves the 
task. On the day appointed the men were disbanded, and many of 
|hem started to return home, without a penny in their pockets or 
decent clothing to their backs. Some had to travel long distances, 
and were frequently on the point of starvation. Others were com- 
pelled to obtain their food at the point of the bayonet. A few were 
received with gratitude, and assisted along their route. They 
returned home to find their parents dead, or their famihes scattered, 
or their patrimonial property ruined by long neglect. Some carried 
with them the seeds of diseases, contracted by long exposure to 
inclement skies, which rendered them invalids for the rest of their 
lives. Others were cripples already, and had nothing but beggary 
in prospect. Of all the veterans thus disbanded, a few, comparatively 
only a few, survived long enough to obtain, in the shape of a pen- 
sion, some late return for their sacrifices; but the great majority died 
before this boon came, the victims either of disease, or beggary, or 
broken spirits. How little do we estimate the price at which our 
liberties were obtained ! 

The city of New York was finally evacuated by the British on 
the 25th of November, 1783; and the same day Washington, attended 
by Governor Clinton, entered it with his army. On the 4th of De- 
cember he took leave of his officers. The scene was peculiarly 
affecting. Many there present had followed him through the whole 
eight years of the contest ; had shared adversity and privation, as 
well as triumph and security with their beloved leader ; and the re- 
membrance of these scenes, united to the consciousness that they 
should probably never see him again, wrung tears from their eyes 
and choked their voices with sobs, as they took his hand in farewell. 
Washington himself could not conceal his emotion. After he had 
parted from them formally, they followed him to the water-side, 
where he embarked in a barge for Paulus Hook ; and as long as the 
venerated form was in sight, they continued on the wharf, straining 
their eyes through the distance. 

Washington proceeded to Annapolis, where Congress was in ses- 
sion ; and there, in a public audience of that body, resigned his com- 
mission. He expressed, with modest dignity, his intention of return- 
ing to private life. " Having finished the work assigned me," were 
nis words, " I now retire from the great theatre of action." Memo- 
22 p 



no 



THE WAR OP INDEPENDENCE. 



rable language ! Would that other successful revolutionary leaders, 
the Crom wells and Napoleons of history, had imitated his example; 
then of the various struggles for freedom which the world has seen, 
ours would not have been the only permanently successful one. 





MOUNT VERNON. 



GEOUGE WASHINGTON 



N pursuing into its detail the story of the 
Revolution, the obvious course is to study 
the hves and characters of its most eminent 
actors. Biography is indeed the best part 
of history. We can never fully understand 
any great event in the annals of a nation, 
until we have made ourselves masters of 
the private motives of the leaders who 
participated in it. There are occurrences 
on every page of the past which would 
otherwise be inexplicable. History, as 
usually written, is too dignified and stately to inform us of those 
little traits which yet go far towards deciding the destinies of na- 
tions ; but biography, more natural, unfolds to us the private life of 
the great actors on the world's stage, and makes us, as it were, their 
familiar companions. History is the dial-plate, on which grand re- 
sults only are marked : biography lays open the interior, and shows 
us the secret springs within. 

It is impossible to understand the war of independence until after 

p* 173 




174 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

a long and patient study of the character of Washington. Perhaps 
no other man could have carried the nation through that crisis. 
There was more than one period during the war when the cause 
would have been lost but for his prudence and skill ; he held the 
army together, he inspired confidence, he breathed only resolution 
when others despaired. The trust reposed in his virtue and ability 
was the cohesive principle of the struggle. Place any other of the 
men, originally proposed, in his station, and imagine what would 
have been the fatal consequences ! Lee would have ruined the 
cause by his rashness, after having alienated the officers by his 
tyranny : Gates would have been depressed by the first defeat, or 
exhilarated by victory to a delirium of folly. Some would have 
quarrelled with Congress before the third year: others would have 
hazarded too much or too little. Washington alone, of all the earlier 
military leaders, possessed that union of moderation and daring — of 
prudence and ability — ^but above all, that consummate judgment, 
and that reputation for exalted virtue, which were necessary, with 
undisciplined troops, and in a nation distracted by party strife as 
much as by local prejudices, to secure a triumphant result to the 
contest. The impression became general even before the close of 
the second campaign, that Washington was the only man capable 
of carrying the country successfully through the war. All eyes were 
turned to him instinctively in seasons of peril. Nor did he disappoint 
these expectations. In studying the war of independence we see 
Washington ever in the front. August and high he towers at the 
head, as of old the pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night moved 
in the van of Israel. 

Yet the character of Washington would be better appreciated, if 
it was more irregular. The exact and perfect harmony of all its 
members, as in a well-proportioned temple, conceals from us its col- 
lossal magnitude : nor can we do justice even to the parts singly, so 
exactly is each adapted to its fellow, and so symmetrically do they 
all melt into the whole. It is a common remark, that his letters have 
too much the air of state-papers : that his character, as exhibited 
there, is cold, impassive, rigid. This is because he is always himselfl 
If he had given way to his passions, like other men : if he had pos- 
sessed some one quality more prominently than others : if he had 
been merely a great captain, or a wise statesman, or an incorruptible 
patriot, his character might have seemed more forcible ; but because 
he was all of these, men scarcely give him the credit of being either 
At present, the gigantic career of Napoleon leads captive the popu- 
lar fancy But though the memory of his genius will endure forever, 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 175 

the estimation of his character sinks lower with every generation 
The fame of Washington, on the contrary, though it may be occa- 
sionally obscured, by more intense, yet less durable luminaries, 
gleams out afresh when the meteor has passed, calm and steady and 
undying. It has been well remarked, that in the closing careers of 
these two men, we may trace a harmony with the rest of their lives. 
Napoleon, after storming through Europe, destroying and elevating 
Kings, died, at last, an exile ; and the elements without, as if in sym- 
pathy with his tempestuous soul, raged in their wildest commotion. 
Washington, after reaping the reward of his patriotic services, in 
being elevated by the free gift of the people, to the place of their 
ruler, closed his career in the bosom of his family, while a nation 
wept at his grave. Napoleon, after all his conquests, left no perma- 
nent dynasty in Europe. Washington, less ambitious, was the 
chief founder of a mighty republic. The power of Napoleon, won 
by force of arms, was written in sand ; that of Washington, sprung 
from, and perpetuated by patriotism, will be immortal. 

George Washington, the son of a plain farmer, was born at 
Bridge's Creek, in Westmoreland county, Virginia, the 22nd of 
February, 1732. He was only ten years old when he lost his father. 
His education which was derived from a private tutor, was good, 
though not elegant : a knowledge of the ordinary English branches, 
to which was afterwards added the mathematics, comprising it all. 
What he studied, however, he acquired thoroughly. He early 
imbibed habits of method, especially in the despatch of business, 
which attended him through life. At the age of fifteen, he procured 
a midshipman's warrant, and was about to enter a royal ship then 
stationed on the coast, when, at the entreaties of his mother, he 
abandoned his design. The mother of Washington appears, at all 
times, to have exercised a powerful influence over him. Not only 
did she early implant into his mind those moral and religious princi- 
ples which guided him in after life ; but her advice frequently 
influenced him, even when he had become the leader of armies, and 
the head of a mighty people. 

Washington for some years, followed the profession of a surveyor. 
He early displayed a taste for military afl'airs. At the age of nine- 
teen, he was appointed Adjutant-General of the militia, with the rank 
pf Major. In 1753, when Governor Dinwiddle wished to send a mes- 
senger to the French fort on the western frontier, in order to warn the 
commander against his encroachments on the territory of Virginia, 
he selected Washington for this delicate and hazardous task. The 
duty was performed, in less than three months, amid perils, fatigue 



176 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 




WASHINGTON'S INTERVIEW WITH THE COMMANDER OF THE FRENCH FOBT 



and difficulties almost innumerable. In 1754, Washington marched, 
with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, as second in command, against 
the French on the Ohio ; and his superior dying, the responsibility 
of the expedition devolved wholly on himself. He had advanced 
but part of his way, when he heard of the approach of a superior 
force, on which he fell back, and entrenched himself at a place 
called Fort Necessity. A severe action ens led, the result of which 
was an honorable capitulation, by which the Americans retained 
their arms and baggage, and were allowed to return unmolested 
home. 

In the meantime, Washington, by the death of his elder brother, 
had become possessed of the estate of Mount Vernon : and to this 
place he now retired, and devoted himself to agriculture. An 
order having been received from England, commanding that 
officers commissioned by the King should take rank of the pro- 
vincial officers, W^ashington indignantly threw up his commis- 
sion. In the spring of 1755, however, he accepted an invitation 
from General Braddock to act as his Aid-de-Camp ; and it is 
to his exertions, chiefly, that the British army was not totally 
annihilated on the bloody field of Monongahela. In 1758, Wash- 
in^on commanded the Virginia troops, in the expedition against 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 177 

Fort du Quesne, but finding the place, on his arival, abandoned, 
the army returned without a battle. During the whole of the four 
years, between 1755 and 1759, he was actively engaged, at the 
head of his regiment, in defending the western frontier. In the 
latter year he resigned this second commission, and retired again to 
private life. Soon after, he married Mrs. Custis, a young, beautiful, 
and wealthy widow : and, for the next twenty years devoted him- 
self to the cultivation of his estates, and the enjoyment of that 
domestic repose of which he was so fond. 

Washington, during this period, frequently served in the legislature 
of his native state ; and early took part with those who resisted the 
encroachments of Great Britain. His large fortune made his accession 
to the popular side a matter of importance ; and, though too modest 
to thrust himself forward, he at once acouired great influence. In 
the various discussions that arose, he rarely spoke, but when he did, 
his opinion was listened to with avidity, for the accuracy of his 
judgment had already passed into a proverb. He was a member 
of the first Congress, in 1774, where his solidity of mind soon distin- 
guished him above the mass. On all military subjects, especially, 
his opinion was listened to with the greatest deference. In 1775, 
after the news of the battle of Lexington, Congress proceeded to form 
a continental army, of which Washington was unanimously elected 
Commander-in-chief. He proceeded at once to Cambridge, in Massa- 
chussetts ; and his history, from this period to the close of the contest, 
becomes the history of the war. 

In 1783, when peace was established, he resigned his commission, 
and once more sought the repose and privacy of Mount Vernon. 
Here he remained until 1787, when he was persuaded from his 
retreat, to lend his name and influence to the Convention which 
framed the present federal Constitution. In 1789, he was unani- 
mously elected the first President of the United States : and in 1793, 
he was re-elected, though against his private wishes, for a second 
term. The eight years of his administration form, perhaps, the 
most important in our civil annals ; as, during that period, the con- 
stitution, if we may use so homely a phrase, was put into working 
Drder. In 1796, notwithstanding the entreaties of his friends, Wash- 
ington retired from his elevated position, with the determination never 
again to enter public life. He was shaken from his purpose, in a 
measure, by the threatened French war of 1798, when he was 
appointed Commander-in-chief of the army to be raised, with 
extraordinary privileges. But his days were now drawing to a 
elose. On the 13th of December, 1799, he was caught in a shower 
23 



178 . THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

of rain, while riding over his farm ; and a violent inflammation ot 
Ihe windpipe ensning, he died on the following day, in the sixty- 
eighth year of his age. We have thus hurried over the events of 
his life, professing to do little more than glance at them in chro- 
nological order, because his biography is familiar to all. We pass, 
as speedily as possible, to a consideration of his character, in its 
three-fold capacity of the leader, the patriot, and the hero ! 

As a MILITARY LEADER, Washington possessed one rare and 
valuable quality — a consummate judgment, which rarely, or never 
led him wrong. His mind was singularly impartial and comprehen- 
sive. No sophistry could deceive him. He took in .every bearing 
of the subject on which he was called to give an opinion. Other 
men burrowed, amid narrow veins, and saw but one aspect : he 
soared so high that evary side came under his vision at once. 
Thoughy like all Generals, he committed occasional errors, they 
Avere usually of comparatively little importance. There is no great 
movement of his, in stratagy or tactics, which can be considered a 
positive blunder. He early saw that the war, in consequence of the 
inefficiency of his troops, was to be carried on chiefly with the spade 
and pick ; and according^, he changed at once the whole character 
of his operations, and stood on the defensive. This he continued to 
do year after year, until he had made an army of veterans, when 
he suddenly resorted to the aggressive again, and closed his military 
career with the brilliant afl'air at Yorktown, Nearly every enter- 
prise of the war, against which his advice was given, terminated 
disastrously. He recommended all those measures which either 
resulted favorably, or were rendered abortive only by unforeseen 
accidents. It was as rare to find Washington's judgment wrong, as 
it is usual to find that of ordinary men right. Its accuracy has 
passed into a proverb. 

But Washington possessed another quality, of the most signal 
importance to a General. He had an iron will. Intellect is of little 
avail, unless the will is resolute. Many persons might have suc- 
ceeded in great designs, if they had been gifted with the nerve to 
execute what the brain conceived. An iron will had been Wash- 
ington's characteristic from boyhood ; and in mature life it did not 
desert him. When his mind was once satisfied of the justice and 
necessity of an act, he was, of all men, the most inflexible in per- 
forming it. This is shown by his conduct in Andre's case, where 
he signed the death-warrant, although he shed tears in the act. 
This is exhibited, also, in his behavior in the afiair of young Asgill, 
where he remained immoveable, though at great pain of mind to 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 179 

himself, until Congress interfered and released the unfortunate youth. 
This iron will led him, after he had once embarked in a measure, to 
carry it through at all hazards. During his Presidency, at the 
period of the Jay treaty, when the House of Representatives refused 
*he necessary appropriation, his memorable message awed down 
all opposition, and settled a most important precedent forever. His 
iron will turned the tide of battle at Monmouth, and changed defeat 
into victory. His iron will led him to write to Congress, when 
Lord North's conciliatory bills arrived, in 1778, — " Nothing short 
of independence, it appears to me, can possibly do." It was his 
iron will which spoke out in the dark crisis of 1776, when, instead 
of harboring a thought of submission, he proposed, in case Philadel- 
phia fell, to retire to the Alleghanies. It was this iron will, almost 
as much as his genius or patriotism, which carried America through 
the war. Men saw his bold front in the storm, and took courage 
to brave it out ! 

He was not less remarkable for high daring. This is a charac- 
teristic usually denied him, because circumstances forced him to 
hold it in check. But, from boyhood, Washington was celebrated 
for a bold and adventurous spirit, which carried him into the midst 
of dangers and difficulties from which others shrank. In wrestling, 
leaping, and in all athletic exercises, he would suffer no one to sur- 
pass him. His spirit of daring, so judiciously combined with a good 
judgment, recommended him to Gov. Dinwiddle, as a suitable per- 
son to execute the celebrated mission to the French post upon the 
lake. Twice, when lying before Boston,, he wished to assault the 
town; but was prevented by the council of officers, with which 
Congress, at that time, fettered him ; and his correspondence evinces 
how much he chafed under the restraint. It is strange into what 
contradictions men fall ! Those who deny him daring are the very 
ones who complain of his anxiety to assault Boston, prophesying 
that, if the storm had taken place, it would have been promptly 
repulsed. Washington want daring ! Then have Monmouth, and 
Princeton, and Trenton told their tales in vain. 

If Washington had died immediately after the latter battle, he 
would have left a very diflferent impression in popular history. The 
memory of that dashing campaign, alone surviving, would have won 
for him the name of the Napoleon of America. Men would have 
prognosticated that, in case he had survived, the meteoric career of 
the Corsican would have been anticipated on this continent. How 
imperfect is human reason ! It was not possible, in a country like 
America, to play continuously the same bold game of war. Wash- 



180 



THE HfiftOES OF THB ftEVOLXfTlON. 



ington had not the troops, with which to hazard such enterprises, 
unless in rare periods of spasmodic excitement^ when enthusiasm 
supplied, for the moment, the confidence of veterans. It was in the 
acute perception he had of this fact that he showed his genius. We 
beUeve that Napoleon, if he had heen in Washington's situation, 
Would have temporized as much as he : and if he had not tempo- 
rised, we are sure he would have been the worse General. The 
original bent of Washington's mind was to bold and rapid measures. 
But, finding that, in consequence of short enlistments, the bulk of 
his army was destined to be composed of raw recruits, he resolved 
to adopt a cautious policy, and to this resolution he firmly adhered, 
sacrificing, in so doing, his natural inclination, and even his personal 
fame. Abandoning all hope of speedy and dazzling success, he set 
himself to work to make the best of his miserable army. He had 
to deal, however, not only with them, but with a careless, often an 
ignorant, and, on some occasions, even a factious Congress, which 
continually neglected, if it did not thwart his views. It is the 
.remark of Professor Smith, of Cambridge University, in England, 
that no General ever contended successfully, for so long a period, 
with such difficulties as Washington. This is high testimony, from 
an impartial source. 

In personal courage, Washington was pre-eminent. At the battle 
of Monongahela, after the fall of Braddock, the salvation of the 
army devolved on his exertions ; and in endeavoring to preserve the 
troops, he galloped incessantly through the thickest of the fight, a 
conspicuous mark for the enemy. An Indian chief afterwards 
declared that he had ordered his young men to fire, five times, at 
Washington. Two horses were shot under him; and four balls 
passed through his coat. His fellow aids sank beside him. The 
soldiers, as they stood in their ranks, went down like corn smitten 
by a whirlwind. Yet he continued, amid this carnage, as coo as 
on a parade. At Kipp's Bay, after the battle of Long Island, per- 
ceiving his men flying before the foe, he rushed in the van, and 
presented his bosom to the hurricane of balls, in the desperate, but 
vain effort to shame the troops into courage. At Princeton, on a 
similar emergency, he seized a standard, and galloping between the 
enemy and his hesitating soldiers, waved it above his head to cheei 
them on, his tall form towering indignant above the smoke of battle, 
like one of the old Homeric gods. At Germantown it was neces- 
sary to force him from the field. Washington never remained idly 
in his tent, like Gates ; but was ever present in the actual strife, 
ready, if occasion required, to flame in the foremost fray ! 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



ir 




Washington's head-quarteks at Cambridge. 



Washington possessed another qualification, which is usually re^ 
garded as the peculiar gift of genius, an insight into character bor- 
dering on the miraculous. If he wished a task performed, of 
whatever description, he knew, at once, who was most capable to 
execute it. He had scarcely been at Cambridge a week, before he 
had determined the exact value of each of his Generals : and it is 
astonishing to find how invariably his estimate of each was confirmed 
by subsequent events. Putnam he pronounced an admirable exe- 
cutive officer : and words could not have described that hero better. 
He selected Arnold for the enterprise of invading Canada, by the 
then untrodden route of the Kennebec; and, perhaps, no other man 
in the whole army could have crossed that wilderness as he did. Of 
the value of Greene he was aware from the first, as is evident by 
the reliance he placed in that officer's judgment ; although five years 
were destined to elapse before the country at large, or even the 
army, could become sensible of the comprehensive intellect of the 
Rhode Island General. Washington always, in private, acknow 



183 



THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 



ledged the inefficiency of Gates, and of numerous others, who, be- 
ginning with high reputations, finished in disgrace and retirement. 

In strategy his skill is proved by the fear with which he infected 
the enemy. Howe was always trembling lest he should find himself 
unexpectedly surrounded or entrapped. The march from the Hud- 
son to Virginia, with the whole series of manoeuvres ending in the 
capture of Cornwallis, was scarcely a less brilliant affair, though on 
a smaller scale, than the famous advance of Napoleon, from Bou- 
logne up the valley of the Rhine, ending in the capture of Ulm and the 
battle of Austerlitz. It must not be forgotten that Washington planned, 
in a great degree, both the northern and southern series of operations, 
which led respectively to the capture of Burgoyne and the expulsion 
of the English from South Carolina. In the former campaign it was 
Washington who called out the New England militia under Lincoln; 
who despatched Morgan to the camp of Gates ; and who advised, in 
conjunction with Schuyler, the breaking up of the roads, which, by 
delaying Burgoyne's advance, did more towards effecting his sur- 
render than even the battle of Saratoga. It was Washington, who, 
in conjunction with Greene, sketched the outline of the southern 
campaign, which terminated so triumphantly. In fact, the caution 
of the British Generals throughout the whole war, evinces their opi- 
nion of the superior skill of Washington ; for, in no other way can 
we explain their inactivity, with forces often superior to his numeri- 
cally, and always so in discipline, appointments, and confidence in 
themselves. Had Washington been a worse strategist — had he even 
been less of a tactician — ^he would have had to fight two battles 
where he fought one, and fight them at a disadvantage ; but it is a 
remarkable fact, that he never, during the whole contest, delivered 
a pitched battle at the choice of the enemy. Napoleon, during his 
career, was continually forcing his enemies to fight against their 
will : the British Generals never could, by any series of manoeuvres, 
compel Washington to this. Cornwallis was, perhaps, the best of 
the English Generals, and enjoyed a high reputation for strategy 
and skill ; yet he was surrounded at Yorktown by an army coming 
from a distance of three hundred miles. Why had Washington no 
Yorktown } Not, certainly, from want of inviting opportunities for 
the British. After the battle of Long Island ; again when crossing 
the Jerseys in 1776; on the Assunpink ; at Valley Forge; and in 
other emergencies, he was in the most desperate straits, yet he al- 
ways found, in the resources of his capacious mind, some means of 
Rscape. If four Generals in succession, besides several entire armies, 
failed to conquer America, it was not on account of want of talent 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 183 

or means on the part of the enemy ; but because the genius of Wash- 
ington proved too gigantic for any, or all of his competitors. Like 
the victorious challenger in Ivanhoe, he overthrew, in succession, 
every antagonist that ventured against him, until the enemy being 
wearied out, and the lists cleared, he remained master of the field. 

It has become the fashion, of late years, to depreciate the military 
genius of Washington. This is the result, perhaps, not so much of 
malice, as of positive ignorance of his merits in the war of indepen- 
dence ! We will not compare him with Napoleon, for such a con- 
trast would be illogical, Washington never having had the means 
at his command to perform the prodigies of that extraordinary man. 
The largest army ever led by the American commander was smaller 
than the smallest that ever fought under the French Emperor. The 
one strode the stage in every thing colossal : the other moved in a 
narrower sphere and with fewer means. The popular mind is always 
more affected by the intelligence of a great battle, in which hundreds 
of thousands of men combatted, than by the despatch announcing 
the victory of a comparatively small force, even though greater skill 
may have been evinced by the latter. There is something in gigan- 
tic slaughter impressing the mind with mysterious awe. It is not the 
wonderful series of battles fought by Napoleon in Champaigne, 
which has left the most profound impression on the mass ; but the 
terrific contests of Eylau, Austerlitz, Wagram, and that crowning 
hecatomb of all, Waterloo ! In perusing the description of the first 
battle at Dresden, where five hundred cannon on the allied side 
alone, cresting the heights around that city, shook the solid moun- 
tains with their explosions, the reader is carried away by a sort 
of wild enthusiasm ; and when he follows the story to the last despe- 
rate struggle at Leipsig, where three hundred thousand men poured 
down on little more than half that number, and where the roar and 
blaze of two thousand pieces of artillery convulsed earth and sky, his 
feehngs become excited to a pitch that is uncontrollable. So, too, 
when, at Waterloo, he sees wave after wave of French infantry and 
cavalry sweep up the declivity on which the British stood, and beat- 
ing vainly against their solid squares, roll back shattered into atoms ; 
when he marks the sun rising to the zenith, then halting, as it were, 
at noon, and then, resuming his course, declining at last towards the 
west, yet all this while, the thunder of the cannon and the shock of 
charging squadrons continuing unabated, while the clatter of sabres 
rises up like the ringing of ten thousand anvils ; when, as night be 
gins to fall, he witnesses that last column of the old guard marshalled 
for the attack-^beholds their silent, steady march as they descend 



184 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

into the valley and begin to mount the opposite ascent — marks the 
point where, meeting the concentric fire of the English batteries 
their head melts away, like an icicle in a summer sun — and finally, 
perceives the whole British line suddenly appear over the crest, as 
if rising at an enchanter's summons, and then, with loud huzzas, 
advancing on the assailants, push them by main force down the hill, 
where rout, confusion, dismay and horror ensue, until Napoleon 
himself exclaiming, in bitter anguish, " c'est Jini^^ is dragged from 
the field : — when he sees all this, he forgets himself, and in the mag- 
nitude and splendor of the theme, flings down the book, transported, 
for the moment, into more than mortal enthusiasm I After such 
fields as Waterloo, he may be excused for thinking all others tame. 
It does not surprise us, therefore, to see the battle-fields of the 
Revolution neglected, or the military genius of Washington and his 
Generals depreciated. The mass must always be dazzled before it 
can bow down and worship. In any comparison, in the popular mind, 
between Napoleon and Washington as Generals, the one rises to a 
demi-god, while the other sinks almost below a man. Yet, it is a 
serious question, whether the difference between the two is as great 
as even the most ardent admirers of the latter have supposed. Na- 
poleon himself was accustomed to say that the battles of Trenton 
and Princeton had first suggested to him his own daring system of 
warfare. If merit is to be measured by the results obtained, Wash- 
ington was certainly one of the greatest Generals on record. If 
genius is shown in moulding an army out of the most unpromising 
materials, the American commander stands without a rival in the. 
page of history. Never had a military chief so many obstacles to 
encounter. His army, composed at first of wholly undisciplined 
troops, was continually changing, so that, at no time, had he any 
considerable number of veterans on whom he could rely: and instead 
of wielding the whole resources of the country with absolute despot- 
ism, he was frequently thwarted in his best schemes by Congress. 
There is not a battle in Napoleon's history which we can say would 
have been gained, if his troops had been as ill-accoutred, and of the 
same material as those of the American commander. Looking only 
at the disparity of the royal and patriotic armies in mere numbers, 
Avithout any reference to the superiority of the former in all that 
constitutes a soldier, it seems a miracle, in a military point of view, 
that the British Generals did not annihilate Washington in the first 
year of the contest. It is usual to attribute their failure to the indo- 
mitable spirit of the American people. This is, in part, true ; but 
only in part. In examining the revolutionary annals, we find, with 



OEORGE WASHINGTON. 



185 



pain, less of this spirit than we had been led to suppose : and far too 
httle, unassisted of other influences, to have achieved our indepen- 
dence. So long as the cause seemed prosperous, there were friends 
enough to liberty ; but when the contest began to look hopeless, the 
British protections were eagerly accepted. It is useless to disguise the 
shameful fact. After the retreat of Washington across the Jerseys, 
in 1776, nearly the whole of that state went over to the royal side ; 




COPT 07 JL aOU) MEDAL FBESENTED TO WASHIN(3!TOX BT CONGBSSS. 



Pennsylvania began also to waver ; and but for the unconquerable 
resolution of the American commander, and that of some other 
equally indomitable souls in Congress and the army, the whole 
cause would have gone by the board. The ship had already struck, 
and it is not too much to say, that Washington, in that crisis, was 
the main bolt that held her from parting into a thousand pieces. 
Had he wavered one instant in his public correspondence, or had 
the battle of Trenton been lost, instead of gained, we have every 
reason to believe there would have ensued one of the most shame- 
ful spectacles of defection recorded in history. There would have 
aeen a scramble to desert the patriotic side, each man seeking to bb 
the first to merit the royal clemency and favor. What happened in 
South Carolma, and in New Jersey, should warn us of what would 
24 Q* 



186 



THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 



have happened in other places. If two of the most patriotic states 

abandoned, ahnost to a man, the popular side, what would have 
been the result if the army of Washington had been crushed at 
Trenton — if he himself had been made a prisoner or killed — ^if all 
organized opposition thereafter, had been put hopelessly at an end ? 
The battle of Trenton, so often alluded to in these remarks, was 
the turning pouit of the contest. The character of Washington can- 
not be understood without a perfect comprehension of that affair, 
with all its attendant circumstances. It is because the importance 
of this battle has never been made sufficiently clear, that Washing- 
ton is regarded as indecisive ; that the title of the American Fabius, 
and no more, is applied to him ; that he is denied the genius for bold 
and sudden enterprises. Yet there is nowhere in the annals of 
history, an undertaking of greater daring than the movement on 
Trenton. Washington was not unaware that, if the attack failed, 
escape, with the wintry Delaware behind him, would have been 
impossible : he staked, therefore, not only his own life, but the exist- 
ence of his army, and with it the question of independence or sub- 
mission, then and forever. In deciding to march on Trenton, he 
emphatically put everything " at the hazard of a die." There can 
be no doubt that, when he landed on the Jersey shore, on that 
eventful morning, he had made up his mind to conquer or perish. 
It was no half-way measure. The axe and scaffold were before him 
in case of capture ; ruin to his family and country in the event of 
death or defeat. He resolved to hazard the stroke. Flinging him- 
self, like Leonidas at Thermopylse, into the last pass, he determined 
to hurl back the invader, or immolate himself and his army ! 
• And he was right! The campaign of 1776, up to the surprise 
at Trenton, had been only a series of disasters. Defeat had followed 
defeat, and defection defection, until the boldest trembled for life and 
liberty. The enemy had gained possession of Rhode Island, Long 
Island, the city of New York, Staten Island, and nearly the whole 
of the Jerseys : and now, separated only by the Delaware, from 
Philadelphia, they might be expected, every moment, to seize that 
city. Congress had already fled to Baltimore. Lee, on whom so 
much reliance had been placed, was a captive. The army, lately 
fifteen thousand strong, had dwindled down, by defeats, by desertion, 
by the expiration of enhstments, and by sickness, to scarcely two 
thousand men : and these, illy clothed, and so poorly equipped that 
they scarcely deserved the name of troops, had barely escaped 
across the Delaware, from the hot pursuit of Cornwallis. The 
British were pressing on with twenty-five thousand men ! A procla- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 187 

mation had been published jointly by Lord Howe and his brother, 
offering pardon in the King's name to all, who, in sixty days, should 
take the oath of allegiance, and come under his protection : and 
many persons, among them men of wealth and influence, not only 
m New Jersey, but in Pennsylvania, had accepted these terms. 
Hundreds of others hesitated, ready to be decided, the instant the 
royal army crossed the Delaware. The panic was universal, and 
spread even to the common people. The hurricane prostrated every- 
thing before it. 

Washington, almost alone, stood unappalled. From the moment 
he had crossed the Delaware, and gained thus a respite for his troops, 
he had been revolving in his mind a plan to change, by one bold act, 
the scales of war. He was assisted, in his resolution, by the alacrity 
with which the Pennsylvania militia began to turn out. A large 
body of these men, under the command of General Cadwalader, 
had already assembled at Bristol, and further accessions were 
daily expected from the yeomanry of the eastern counties, now 
thoroughly aroused. By neither bis counsels nor his conduct did 
Washington betray a thought of yielding. " If Philadelphia falls,'' 
he said in public, "we must retreat beyond the Susquehannah, and 
thence, if necessary, to the Alleghany Mountains." His letters, foi 
a fortnight before the battle, all point to the stroke he was maturing 
in his mind. No historical fact can be more certain than that the 
idea of the surprise first originated with himself: though, as he had 
spoken of the necessity of some such measure frequently before, 
others came at last to suggest it, or a similar movement. The plan, 
as finally resolved on, was all his own. The British lay at Trenton, 
fifteen hundred strong ; while smaller detachments occupied Burling- 
ton, Bordentown, Black-Horse, and Mount Holly. Washington, in 
person, proposed to cross the Delaware with the continental troops, 
above Trenton : while Ewing, with a portion of the Pennsylvania 
militia, should cross below, and both unite in an attack on that place. 
Cadwallader, with the rest, was to cross at Bristol. In the end, 
neither of the two latter were able to effect their part of the plan ; 
hence, for the present we shall leave them and follow Washington. 

The night of the 25th of December had been selected for the 
attack, because it was supposed the enemy, on that festive occasion, 
would be more or less off his guard. Early in the afternoon, accord- 
mgly, the troops were mustered at McConkey's Ferry, on the west 
side of the Delaware, eight miles above Trenton. The weather had 
been unusually warm for the season, until within a day or two 
^before, when it had set in cold ; and the river was now full of ice. 



ISS THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

grinding and rumbling in the tide, with the noise of thunder. In 
consequence of this obstacle, the army, which it had been calculated 
would pass over by midnight, was not able to reach the eastern shore 
until after four o'clock ; and at times, it seemed impossible that it 
could cross at all. During these awful moments of suspense, Wash* 




WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE. 



ington sat, exposed to all the rigors of the night, eyeing the progress 
of the boats, which, now jamned in between large masses of ice, 
and now nearly over-lapped by fragments of the same material, 
piling one above another, — threatened momentarily to be engulphed. 
The wind roared among the skeleton trees that lined the shore ; the 
crashing and splitting of the ice filled the wind with images of 
terror ; and occasionally gusts of hail and sleet, premonitory of the 
coming tempest, dashed fiercely in the face. Yet still he sat, on that 
rude seat prepared for him near the shore, unmoved, yet filled with 
intense anxiety, and watching the struggling boats, by the light of 
the few stars, which broke, here and there, thtough the stormy rack 
of heaven. 

His force consisted of about twenty-four hundred men, with 
twenty brass field-pieces. The distance from the landing place to 
Trenton, by the river road, is eight miles ; but, by the more cir- 
cuitous Pennington road, rather more. Washington's plan was to 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 189 

divide liis forces, allowing Sullivan, with one half, to take the river 
road, while he, with the remainder, should pursue the longer route, 
timing their progress in such a way, however, as to enable both to 
reach the opposite sides of Trenton at the same time, and thus make 
a simultaneous attack. Accordingly, after proceeding a mile in 
company, the two divisions parted. Washington watched the troops 
of Sullivan until they faded in the gloom, and then turned to follow 
Greene's division, which was already some distance in advance. 
The night was fast growing darker. The snow, which had hitherto 
come only in squalls, now began to fall steadily, accompanied occa- 
sionally with hail and sleet. The flakes, thick and whirling, 
obscured the way ; the icy particles rattled on the knapsacks ; and 
the wind moaned across the landscape, as if wailing over the 
approaching ruin of America. Many of the soldiers were scantily 
clothed : a few had neither stockings nor shoes, but, as they marched, 
left their bloody footsteps in the snow. The tempest roared louder 
and fiercer, increasing every moment. Yet still the men toiled on. 
Some of them noticed that the wet had spoiled their powder, and 
on this being reported to Washington, he remarked, with resolution, 
" then we must fight with the bayonet." Every one felt, with their 
leader, that it was the hour of crisis : and so, though shirering and 
weary, they toiled resolutely on. They were yet two miles from 
Trenton when the dawn began to break. Two of their number, 
exhausted and frozen, dropped from their ranks and died. But the 
others still pressed on. History, perhaps, presents no. parallel to 
that eventful march. No martial band was there to exhilarate 
the men ; no gilded banner floated on high ; no splendid forest of 
sabres guarded that infantry, toiling on its way, with triple rows of 
steel. In silence, like the Spartans of old, the Americans pursued 
their route. The inhabitants of the farm houses they passed, half 
waking from slumber, fancied, for a moment, there were strange 
doilnds upon the breeze ; but imagining what they heard only the 
intonations of the tempest, they turned and slept again, little 
thinking that the destiny of their country quivered, that hour, in the 
balance. 

Washington rode beside his scanty band, oppressed with anxious 
thoughts. Even more taciturn than usual, he scarcely exchanged a 
syllable with his staff. His mighty bosom, we may well suppose, 
was oppressed with the awful crisis approaching. Everything hung 
on the next half hour. The accidental discharge of a musket, the 
timely warning of a single traitor might ruin all. Never did his 
anxiety rise to such a pitch as now. At last, word was passed dowD 



190 , THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

the line m a whisper that the outposts of the enemy were close at 
hand; and now the great hero rode forward to the head of his 
troops. The moment of destiny had arrived. Washington endea- 
vrcred, for an instant, to penetrate with his vision, the gloom ahead: 
then reining up his steed, he turned to his troops, his sword pointed 
in the advance. The front ranks only were in sound of his voice, 
but they pressed around him to hear his words. " Soldiers," he 
said, " now, or never ! This is our last chance — march on !" 

His voice was husky as he spoke, for all the mighty responsibili- 
ties of the crisis had crowded on his mind ! But the tone of that 
voice, the stirring eloquence of those brief words, filled the hearts of 
his hearers with one common sentiment, which they expressed in 
their glances, as they looked, with half glistening eyes at each 
other ! — it was to conquer or die ! The address was repeated from 
mouth to mouth, along the line, and thrilled every heart. Involun- 
tarily the men, as they listened, grasped their muskets more firmly, 
and stepped quicker on. All was now breathless excitement. 
Suddenly a house loomed up through the fog ahead ! The next 
moment a challenge was heard : answers were rapidly exchanged ; 
Vnd then a hurried discharge of musketry blazed irregularly through 
the storm. The picquet of the enemy had been surprised. " For- 
ward," rung out in the deep tones of Washington, at that instant; and 
with the word, the nien started like hounds let loose from the leash, 
poured in a withering fire, and driving the picquet furiously before 
them, pursued it to the outskirts of the town. 

In Trenton, the night had been one of festivity. The soldiers 
were mostly in the beer-shops carousing : and even the officers had 
given themselves up to mirth. Col. Rahl had been engaged, all 
night, at his head-quarters playing cards, and it is a tradition that a 
note, conveying intelligence of the contemplated attack, had been 
delivered to him about midnight, but being occupied with the game, 
he had slipped it into his pocket, and afterwards forgot it. A more 
authentic story is, that General Grant, at Princeton, forwarded the 
note, and that Rahl acted on it at once ; but an advance party 
returning from the Jerseys to Pennsylvania, about two hours before 
the real attack, fell in with the Hessian picquet, and being repulsed, 
this was supposed to be the intended surprise. In consequence, the 
Hessians had relapsed into greater security than ever. On the noise 
of the firing at the outposts, Rahl stopped and listened : the driving 
sleet pattering against the window panes, for a moment deceived 
him ; but then, loud and distinct, succeeded the rattle of musketry 
he dropped his cards, sprang to" the door, szd boked out. At that 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 191 

instant some of the Hessian soldiers came running down the street, 
exclaiming that Washington was upon them. Rahi shouted to arms, 
and called for his horse. He sprang into the saddle : the drums 
beat ; ana in an instant the whole town was in a tumult. The sol- 
diers rushed from their quarters, some with, some without arms ; 
the officers were heard calling to their men, and endeavoring to form 
the ranks ; while the inhabitants, hurrying to their doors and win- 
dows, looked out, a moment, at the storm and uproar, and then 
hastened to conceal themselves in the most secret recesses of their 
dwellings. 

The Hessian outpost, as it fled, kept up a desultory fire, its men 
dodging from house to house, like Indians in a frontier fight. On 
approaching the town, Washington saw the enemy already drawn up 
to receive him : Rahl galloping hither and thither, eager to make 
up for his want of caution, by energy and boldness. The American 
commander instantly ordered up the artillery. Quick as lightning, 
Knox galloped to the front, unlimbered his guns, and swept the 
solid tanks before him, with a storm of fiery sleet. The infantry, 
on right and left, meantime poured in their musketry. A dropping 
fire from the enemy replied. Another round of cannon and small 
arms followed: and then the Hessians were seen perceptibly to 
waver. At this instant, the rattle of musketry was heard coming 
from the opposite end of the town, where Sullivan was expected to 
enter. The enemy were in the net : escape was impossible. The 
enthusiasm was now unbounded, and the men, cheering, swept 
onwards with accelerated pace ; while the Hessians, wildly breaking 
their ranks, drove before them in rapid and tumultuous flight. 

The city of Trenton is built in the corner of a right-angled triangle, 
formed by the junction of the Assunpink creek with the Delaware. 
The river road follows the course of the Delaware, here nearly east, 
until, just before reaching the Assunpink, it turns sharp to the north- 
east, and runs through the lower part of the town, nearly parallel to 
the Assunpink. The road by which Washington came, enters 
Trenton at the upper end of the city, and passing nearly due south, 
intersects the route followed by Sullivan, about the centre of the 
town. In consequence, as soon as Sullivan reached his position, the 
Hessians were partially surrounded; and would have been alto- 
gether so, if General Ewing could have crossed below Trenton, as 
arranged, and cut ofl" escape by the bridge over the Assunpink. In 
the panic of the first alarm, a body of Hessians, five hundred strong, 
besides a company of light-horse, without waiting to assist their 
companions, fled across this bridge towards Bordentown, and made 



192 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLtlTlON. 

good their escape. The remainder, under Rahl, at the Upper end 
of the town, finding, by the firing to the south, that the enemy had 
cut off" retreat in that direction, broke from the main-street, where 
they had first been drawn up, and taking a diagonal course across 
the fields, to the east, sought to escape by the road to Princeton 
To prevent this, Washington threw a detachment of Virginia troops 
between them and the highway. Thus hemmed in, but one course 
remained for them ; which was to fly towards the Assunpink, and 
endeavor, if possible, to ford it. Thither, accordingly, one portion of 
them hurried, no longer keeping their ranks however, but huddled 
wildly together, jostling and treading on each other in their mortal 
panic. 

But fast as they fled, the Americans pursued as fast. Whenever 
the Hessians turned in their fright, they saw the enemy, nigher 
than before ; while still that fatal rattle of fire-arms was main- 
tained, accompanied by exulting huzzas. At every step, some new 
victim dropped from the ranks of the fugitives, and was silent for- 
ever. In vain the brave Rahl tried to rally his troops. He was 
shot while thus engaged, and fell mortally wounded. Then the 
panic became greater than ever. Through the orchard on their left; 
by the grave-yard of the Presbyterian Church ; across the common 
at the end of the street, by which Sullivan was advancing, the Hes- 
sians hurried frantically on, the officers borne resistlessly with them, 
a wild, confused, terror-struck torrent. At last they reached the 
Assunpink. Here some threw themselves in, and were frozen to 
death, in attempting to swim across. But the larger portion, flying to 
a rock which juts out into the stream, and discovering further escape 
impossible, grounded their arms, loudly supplicating quarter. 

Another portion had cast themselves into a stone house in their 
way, carrying with them a piece of artillery, which they posted in 
the hall. Captain Washington immediately unlimbered one of his 
field pieces, and, for a few minutes, the ground shook with the ex- 
plosions of the hostile cannon. But the fire growing every minute 
more sure and deadly, and his men beginning to waver, he suddenly 
resolved on one of those bold strokes of personal daring, which carry 
back the imagination to the days of Richard at Ascalon. Dashing 
from the ranks, he sprang into the house, seized the officer in com- 
mand of the gun and ordered him to surrender. The Hessians drew 
back, astonished and uncertain. That single moment of doubt de- 
cided their fate. Washington's men, rushing after him, had filled 
the hall, before the enemy could recover from their amazement ; and 
the whole party accordingly was made prisoners. Washington was 



GEOllGE WASHINGTON. 193 

the only^one of the, assailants wounded, receiving a ball in his hand 
as he entered the house. 

The battle was now over. When those who had been captured 
by Sullivan were added to those taken prisoners by Washington, the 
whole number was found to be nine hundred and nine, of whom 
twenty-three were officers. The Hessians lost seven officers and 
nearly thirty men killed : only two officers of the Americans, and a 
few privates were wounded. About a thousand stand of arms fell 
into the hands of the victors. As Washington rode over the field, 
after the conflict was at an end, he found Colonel Rahl, in the snow, 
weltering in his blood. He instantly ordered that his own physician 
should attend the unfortunate man ; but medical assistance was in 
vain: Rahl had received a mortal wound, and being carried back to 
his head-quarters, died. It was, perhaps, better that he should thus 
close his life, than survive to face the obloquy of having, by his 
carelessness or misfortune, ruined the royal cause. 

The Americans, when they found the victory their own, could 
not conceal the exhilaration of their spirits. It was the first gleam 
of success after an unbroken series of misfortunes. A load seemed 
removed from every heart. The men forgot their suff'erings, and 
congratulated each other as on a festival ; while the officers, looking 
forward into the future, foresaw the day when they should be fol- 
lowed by acclamations as they revisited this scene, and the murmur 
go round, " he, too, fought at Trenton." Washington alone, pre- 
served his equanimity. What the secret emotions of that mighty 
heart must have been, we can imagine^ but not adequately describe. 
He busied himself, apart, in making preparations to secure his vic- 
tory ; and so successfully, that, before night, the prisoners were all 
transported to the western shore of the Delaware. His next measure 
was to march them to Philadelphia, where they were paraded 
through the streets, while the inhabitants, as they looked on, gazed 
in speechless amazement, like spectators at some exhibition of magic 
in Arabian story. The fact that the first rumor of the victory was 
received with incredulity, and the capture of the Hessians disbe- 
lieved up to the very moment of their appearance in the city, proves, 
more than volumes of reasoning, the geiieral depression of the pub- 
lic mind, and the conviction of the invincibility of the royal troops. 
The moral consequences of the battle of Trenton were infinitely 
greater than its mere physical results. It changed, at once, the 
doubting into friends ; it made the hostile neutral ; and it convinced 
the patriot that God was on his side, and that his country would yet 
be free ! a 

25 



194 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

If the original plan of the battle had been carried into effect, it is 
probable not a ^British soldier, south of Princeton, would have made 
his escape. Could Ewing have effected his passage below Trenton, 
he would have intercepted the detachment that fled over the Assun- 
pink bridge : while, if Cadwalader had been able to cross from 
Bristol, not only Burlington, but Bordentown, Mount Holly and 
Black Horse, must have fallen into his hands. Washington, how- 
ever, was determined not to lose the advantage he had gained. The 
enemy, yet staggering under his blow, had abandoned all his posts 
and fallen back on Princetorx : it was the design of the American 
commander, if possible, to throw him back still further, and clear 
west Jersey of his presence. Accordingly, on the 30th of De- 
cember, his troops having been recruited, Washington crossed the 
Delaware again and took post at Trenton. General Cadwalader, 
with fifteen hundred Pennsylvania militia, and shortly after. Gene- 
ral Mifflin, with as many more, succeeded also in passing the river, 
and formed a junction with Washington. Meantime Cornwallis, 
who had proceeded to New York to embark for Europe, considered 
affairs in too "critical a state to leave ; and suspending his departure, 
hastened back to Princeton, collecting, on his way, all the regiments 
he could muster, and concentrating them on that point. Having 
prepared a force sufficient, as he thought, to annihilate Washington, 
he left Princeton on the 2nd of January, 1777, and advanced ori 
Trenton. Washington, learning his approach by scouts, sent forward 
detachments to skirmish and impede his way, which was done with ' 
such success, that the royal General could not reach Trenton until 
four o'clock in the afternoon. By this time the American leader had 
retired to the eastern shore of the Assunpink, where there is a high 
bank ; and forming his men there, with the artillery to defend the 
bridge, he awaited the onset. 

A furious conflict ensued. The British assailed the Americans at 
two different points, one attack being directed against the bridge, and 
the other against a ford lower down. \t the latter place, the enemy 
was repulsed promptly, and with such slaughter, that the stream 
was choked up with his dead. But the main assault was at the former 
position. The ground on the eastern shore of the river, here declines 
from all sides towards the bridge, so that the Americans were able to 
range themselves on the slopes, rank above rank, like spectators in 
an amphitheatre. An old mill, frowning over the bank at this 
spot, afforded a rude fortress to command the passage. A 
heavy battery of artillery was posted in the road, just beyond, its 
gaoing mouths pointed so as to sweep the bridge. Thus prepared. 



GEORGE WASHINGTO:!?. 195 

the i^mericans awaited the assault. All eyes, in their crowded 
ranks, were meanwhile silently directed across that narrow cause- 
way, and up the long street, which, stretching in a straight line on 
the other side, was now darkened with the threatening masses of 
the foe. Directly a column was seen to unwind itself from the main 
body, and with fifers playing gaily, to advance steadily towards the 
passage. The Americans gazed in silent suspense, as the head of 
the long extended column approached them, its other extremity 
continuing to evolve itself from the apparently inexhaustible mass 
behind. They were still confounded at the endless numbers they 
displayed, when the front of the enemy, arriving within sixty yards 
of the bridge, raised a shout, and rushed forward. Instantly the 
defenders opened their batteries, all uniting in a concentric fire on 
the bridge. For a few seconds, the roar of artillery and musketry 
was terrific. Incessant discharges of grape swept the narrow pas- 
sage, and ploughed up the planks of the foot-path; while the 
crashing of bullets on the solid masses of the foe, smote the ear like 
the shattering of glass in a hail-storm. Unappalled, however, by 
the awful carnage, the British pressed steadily forward; they 
reached the bridge, they rushed upon it, they even got half way 
across. The appalled Americans saw, through the smoke, the 
bayonets of their foes glistening on the hither side of the causeway. 
At the sight they redoubled their exertions. The earth now quaked 
under the rapid discharges of the artillery, and the old mill rocked, 
enveloped in sheets of fire. Drifts of fiery spray hissed over the 
bridge, gust following gust without the intermission of a second, 
until the head of the British colunm melted away in the tempest. 
Yet still the rear ranks pressed on. And still the front files, as they 
came within that magic circle, disappeared, like snow-flakes driven 
into the mouth of a furnace. Soon a pile of almost impassible dead 
blocked up the passage. Yet those behind continued to urge on 
those before, till, notwithstanding the immense weight of the mass 
thus pressing from the rear, the head of the column moved slower 
and slower, retarded by the bodies of the slain, and by the rushing 
of that terrible blast. In vain they placed shoulder to shoulder, 
and stooping their heads, strove to bear down the tempest with their 
solid masses : tearing and splitting wherever it came, it riddled their 
ranks through and through, and prostrated them before it. At last 
human courage could endure it no longer. With a wild cry of 
horror the British broke and fled. 

Not a shout had been heard in the American ranks while the 
struggle continued ; but now a simultaneous cheer arose, and rolling 



196 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

down the line, which extended for a mile, was echoed back from 
the extreme left, far out of sight. A few minutes of breathless sus- 
pense ensued, at the end of which, the British, having rallied, were 
seen again advancing. They were met, a second time, by that 
withering fire ; and, a second time, triumphantly repelled. Again 
that shout rose from the Americans defending the bridge, and was 
replied to by their companions far along that winding stream. A third 
time the enemy attempted to carry the passage ; a third time they 
were hurled triumphantly back : a third time that rejoicing huzza 
traversed the line, till the shores of the distant Delaware trembled in 
the concussion. The English returned no more to the charge after 
this ; but, drawing off their shattered ranks, reserved their further 
trials for the morrow. Night soon fell upon the bloody scene, and con- 
cealed the heaps of dead and wounded that choked up the bridge. 
The houses on the opposite bank grew darker and more ooscure : 
the trees, standing leafless and frozen in the twilight, changed to 
fantastic shapes, and finally disappeared ; and the deep gloom of 
a winter evening threw its mantle of silence around the landscape. 
Lights, however, flashed up and down in Trenton, and the low hum 
of the British army rose on the air. On the American side there was, 
for a while, equal silence and darkness. But, as the twilight deepened, 
the enemy heard the sound of spades as if busy at entrenching in the 
rebel camp, while watch-fire after watch-fire started into sight, until 
the whole line, like some vast electric chain, brightened with the 
conflagration. CornwaUis gazed with secret exultation at this spec- 
tacle, which assured him that the Americans would await him on 
the morrow ; and, confident in his overwhelming forces, for large 
Te-inforcements from Brunswick were expected before morning, he 
retired to his tent to dream of victory, and of new honors bestowed 
by the hand of a grateful sovereign. 

But it was not Washington's intention to allow his enemy this 
triumph. Satisfied that he could not hold his present position 
against the overwhelming masses that, on the morrow, would be 
precipitated against it, he resolved to abandon his ground. A hasty 
council of oflicers was called, at the quarters of St. Clair. No 
authentic memorial is preserved of the deliberations of this meeting ; 
but tradition assigns to Washington the suggestion of the bold plan 
which he ultimately adopted, and in which, it is understood, only 
Greene and Knox at first concurred. This plan was to move boldly 
on the enemy's rear, by way of Princeton, and cut off" his communi- 
cations. Accordingly, about midnight, the army was put in 
motion, sentinels bemg left to keep guard through the night, and a 



GEORGE WASHINGTON, 197 

party sent to the front to work noisily at digging trenches. The day 
had been comparatively mild, so that the roads had thawed ; and it 
was feared tliey would now be impassible ; but the wind suddenly 
shifting to the north, the cold soon became intense, and the highway, 
though rough, was frozen hard. Following the east bank of the 
Assunpink, Washington silently drew off towards Princeton, resolv- 
ing to carry the war into the heart of the enemy's position. The 




rns 



head-quartees at morristown. 



remainder of this eventful campaign may be told in few words. At 
Princeton he met a detachment of the royal army, hastening to join 
Cornwallis, and. a severe action ensued, which terminated victoriously 
for the Americans. Cornwallis, who had retired, to dream of victory, 
was waked at day-break by the firing. He instantly perceived 
that he had been duped, and trembling for his communications, hur- 
ried back to Princeton in mortification and alarm, hoping yet to 
overtake Washington before he could wholly escape ; but the 
American General skilfully eluding the pursuit, drew off towards 
Pluckemain, where, safe from surprise, he halted to refresh his troops, 
worn down by thirty -six hours of incessant action. Immediately 
afterwards, he took up his winter-quarters in the hilly region around 
Morristown. Cornwallis, completely foiled, fell back towards the 
Raritan, and abandoned all hopes of entrapping his wary antagonist. 
The result of this splendid series of operations was, that, in a short 
time, not a single regiment of the enemy remained in the Jerseys, 

R* 



198 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

except at Brunswick and Amboy, between which places and New 
York' was an open communication by water. Thus, when supposed 
ro be annihilated, Washington, like the fabled genii, had suddenly 
risen up, saved Philadelphia, driven the British from the Delaware, 
and recovered the whole province of New Jersey. All this, too, he 
did in ten days. Napoleon's earlier campaigns form the only parallel 
to it in modern history. As Botta, the eloquent Italian historian of 
the war remarks : " Achievements so astonishing gained for the 
American commander a very great reputation, and were regarded 
with wonder by all nations, as well as by the Americans. Every 
one applauded the prudence, the firmness, and the daring of Wash- 
ington. All declared him the saviour of his country : . all proclaimed 
him equal to the most renowned commanders of antiquity.'' 

We now dismiss the military character of Washington. We have 
thrown it thus prominently into the fore-ground, and examined it in 
such detail, in consequence of the almost universal misapprehension 
which exists with regard to it. We have wished to shew that he 
was a great General as well as a pure patriot : that his intellectual 
qualities and his moral ones were equally harmonious and high. 
His consummate judgment ; his iron will ; his daring ; his courage ; 
his discernment of character ; and his skill in tactics and strategy, 
are all ingredients which go to make up the perfect whole of his 
military character. These we have considered. His love of coun- 
try, his sense of duty, and his lofty and incorruptible principles are 
the elements which constitute his moral character. The combination 
of the first produced the great General : the union of these last 
resulted in the good man. The one gave him the means, the other 
afforded the motive to play the part he did in achieving our inde- 
pendence. The military leader we have already described : it only 
remains for us to paint the patriot and hero. 

As A PATRIOT Washington was pure and unselfish. On the one 
hand, he was not actuated by any ambitious motives of personal 
distinction, nor on the other, restrained by any fear of obloquy or 
danger. It is unquestionable that there were many men taking part 
in the revolutionary struggle, who were guided chiefly by a thirst 
to lead — an insane longing after notoriety or power. Such a man 
was Lee. There were others, who, while good patriots in the main, 
yet suffered unworthy motives of personal advancement to regulate 
their conduct : men who, when all went prosperously, were valuable 
auxiliaries; bat when disasters thickened, and the scaffold loomed 
up threateningly close at hand, began to tremble, if not for them- 
selves, at least for their families. Washington had none of this 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 199 

timorous, half-repenting feeling. He loved his country with no 
common sentiment, hut with that depth and earnestness which charac- 
terized him in all things. He had little to gain hy the war, and 
everything to lose. His estate was one of the best in the provinces ; 
his reputation was sufficient for his ambition; with his love of 
domestic quiet, the command of the army, involving such perplex- 
ities and perils, was no temptation. But he believed his country 
had been wronged, and he had the spirit to resent it. He foresaw 
tlie long and bitter war. " Give me leave to add, as my opinion/' 
he wrote in 1774, " that more blood will be spilled on this occasion, 
if the ministry are determined to push matters to extremity, than 
history has ever yet furnished in the annals of America." Yet, 
with this knowledge before him, he did not hesitate. It is a mis 
take, as some have supposed, that Washmgton was for conciliation 
In the first Congress he asserted the necessity of war. He voted 
afterwards, in the Virginia Convention, in favor of Patrick Henry's 
•celebrated resolutions, to enrol, arm and discipline the militia ; and 
we can fancy we see his fine form dilating to its loftiest height, a.s 
he listened breathlessly to the fervid oratory of the speaker. " We 
must fight. I repeat it, sir, we must fight," said Henry. "Au 
appeal to arms, and to the God of hosts, is all that is left us." 

It was his high sense of duty, no meaner motive, which led 
Washington to accept the command of the army. He would have 
fought in an humbler capacity if necessary. In 1775, he writes, in 
reference to an independent company, " I shall very cheerfully 
accept the honor of commanding it, if occasion require it to be drawn 
out, as it is my full intention to devote my life and fortune in the 
cause we are engaged in, if needful." When he was chosen gene- 
ralissimo, if he hesitated at all, it was from a consciousness of the 
magnitude and responsibility^ of the office. He wrote home to his 
wife, ^^ so far from seeking this appointment, I have used every 
endeavor in my power to avoid it.^^ A few months later, he writes 
to a friend, '- my situation is so irksome to me, at times, that, if I 
did not consult the public good more than my sense of tranquillity , 
I should long ere this have put everything at the hazard of a die." 
When, on the evacuation of Boston, the Massachusetts Legislature 
testified their respect and attachment by an address, he replied that 
he had )nly done his duty, " wishing for no other reward than that 
arising from a conscientious discharge of his important trust.^- 
Throughout the whole war, his conduct exhibited him in the same i 

hght. It was not merely in words that he sacrificed on the altar of ||; 

duty : '• whatever his hand found to do, that he did with ah his 
might." 



200 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



His equal mind was especially conspicuous. He seemed to towyr 
above the clouds and storms of the present, and to live only in the 
loftier and serener atmosphere of the future. The misrepresentations 
of his character and motives, which at one time obtained even the 
ear gf Congress, did not destroy his equanimity, or seduce him into 
recrimination. Other men, with but half his wrongs, revenged 
themselves by deserting or betraying their country. But Washing- 
ton, though daily slights were put upon him, and even the with- 
drawal of his rank secretly plotted, never allowed himself to swerve 
a hair's breadth from the line of duty. Caressed or thwarted, he 
did his best for his country. Like Luther, he could have said, " this 
is none of my seeking — the work is upon me, and I must go for 
ward — God help me ! " 

His conscience was ever his guide. He allowed no sinister 
motives to actuate him. Never, to attain his ends, would he stoop to 
unworthy means. So high was his sense of virtue, that he could not 
forgive subterfuge or dishonesty ; but the man whom he detected in , 
such arts, at pnce, and forever lost his confidence. By some, this 
trait in his character has been called sternness. It was not, it was 
justice. Follies and indiscretions, Washington could forgive ; but 
not deliberate and continued acts of moral turpitude. Pity for the 
criminal has, of late years, supplanted, to a great extent, indignation, 
at the crime ; and we see the consequences in the uncertainty of pun^ 
ishment, and in the increasing disorganization of society. To count 
tenance guilt, through a false clemency, is treason to honest men. 
Washington carried his hatred against subterfuge and dishonesty to 
such an extent, as to abjure, in the ordinary concerns of life, even 
the shadow of artifice or dissimulation. No man was more sincere. 
Hence he reprobated the slightest departure from truth. A lie 
roused all his indignation : deceit shut his soul against intimacy. 
He was candid and faithful to his friends ; to his enemies cold, but 
impartial. Never, perhaps, was there an individual more deserving 
the title of " the just man." 

One of his most prominent traits was self-control. This was the 
more remarkable, because naturally he possessed impetuous passions. 
Some men, gifted with easy dispositions, find it no hard task to be 
impartial, because neither right nor wrong can maKC any lasting 
impression on them : their charity, in fact, is indifference ; their 
amiability, coldness of heart ; and the whole merit of their equanim- 
ity, consists in incapacity. Yet few individuals have made a figure 
m the world, unless originally possessed of high passions. Men of 
the greatest force of character axe those whose temper, naturally 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 201 

vehement, has been disciplined and brought under control. Wash- 
ington was of this description. Long and severe training had made 
him completely the master of himself. He reahzed the words of 
the wise man : — " He that is slo w to anger, is better than the 
mighty ; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city." 
Washington seemed, indeed, to exercise a control over himself to a 
degree denied to other men. In situations the most trying to Ihe 
temper, he retained an equanimity almost miraculous. Once or 
twice only, during the eight years of the war, did he give way to his 
passions in moments of excitement ; but on these occasions his fury 
was terrible. At the battle of Germantown, and at Kipp's Bay, 
both times under the same circumstances of mortification at the 
unexpected flight of his soldiers, he burst forth into a scornful anger, 
withering to its guilty objects, attended with a recklessness as to his 
own life, which compelled his friends to force him from the field. 

These were the exceptions, however. It is rare to find him, even 
in private letters to his friends, giving way to irritation . at the con- 
stant annoyances he had to contend with, chiefly arising from the 
contentions of his officers, or the folly, neglect, and suspicions of Con- 
gress. We have already alluded to his conduct during the Conway 
cabal, when a powerful party, both military and civil, was plotting 
his downfall. Ordinary men, under such circumstances, would have 
thrown up their commission in disgust or spleen : a Cromwell, or a 
Napoleon would have marched on Congress, and cut the Gordian 
knot with his sword. But Washington's sense of duty, his lofty and he- 
roic patriotism, made him abhor the remedies, as it exalted him above 
the passions of common humanity. He wrote a letter, on this occa- 
sion, designed for Congress in which he says : — ^' My chief concern 
arises from an apprehension of the dangerous consequences, which 
intestine dissentions may produce to the common cause. As I have 
no other view than to promote the public good, and am unambitious 
of honors not founded in the approbation of my country, I would 
not desire, in the least degree, to suppress a free spirit of inquiry 
into any part of my conduct, that even faction itself may deem 
reprehensible." After inviting an examination, he says:^ — "My. 
enemies take an ungenerous advantage of me. They know the 
delicacy of my situation, and that motives of policy deprive me of 
the defence I might otherwise make against their insidious attacks. 
They know I cannot combat their insinuations, however injurious, 
witho'it disclosing secrets, which it is of the utmost moment to con- 
ceal But why should I expect to be exempt from censure, the 
26 



202 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 




WASHINGTON'S HEAD-QUAETEES AT NEWBUEG. 



unfailing lot of an elevated situation ?" It is some consolation to 
know that Conway, the busy agent in this intrigue, afterwards, by 
his own accord, recanted, and that the prominent actors in it nearly 
all fell into signal disgrace, in consequence of their own follies, 
before the close of the war. 

There is no single fact more illustrative of Washington's character, 
than his answer to the proposition made to him, in the name of some 
of his officers, to assume the title of king. It was in the year 1 782, and 
while he was still at the head of his command. The incapacity of Con- 
gress had long been apparent : the army, to a man, was dissatisfied 
with the civil authorities of the country ; and even a portion of the 
citizens, fond of pomp and titles, and thinking a monarchy safer than 
a republic, secretly favored the measure. Nor would it have been 
so difficult, as many suppose, for Washington, had he been ambitious, 
to have obtained the crown. The people were exhausted with war 
There was no force, in any part of the states, competent for resist- 
ance. A bounty to the troops; the promise of immunity to the tories; 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 203 

rank proffered to such leading men as were patriots from policy : — 
these would have been bribes which, if adroitly administered, would 
have betrayed America, unless her citizens were less selfish than 
others, or than they had proved themselves to be. It was well for 
the freedom of this land, that a Washington, not a Cromwell or a 
Napoleon, was at the head of the army. He refused the boon at 
once, and refused it with indignation and horror. The act is the 
more noble because it stands alone in history. His indignant reply, 
dated Newburg, 22nd May, 1782, is as follows : 

" Sir : — With a mixture of great surprise and astonishment, I have 
read with attention the sentiments you have submitted for my peru- 
sal. Be assured. Sir, no occurrence in the course of the war has 
given me more painful sensations, than your information of there 
being such ideas existing in the army, as you have expressed, and I 
must view with abhorrence and reprehend with severity. For the 
present, the communication of them will rest in my own bosom, 
unless some further agitation of them shall make a disclosure neces- 
sary. 

" I am much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could 
have given encouragement to an address, which to me seems big 
with the greatest mischiefs that can befall my country. If I am not 
deceived, in the knowledge of myself, you could not have found a 
person to whom your schemes are more disagreeable. At the same 
time, in justice to my own feelings, I must add, that no man pos- 
sesses a more sincere wish to see ample justice done to the army 
than I do : and, as far as my powers and influence, in a constitutional 
way, extend, they shall be employed to the utmost of my abilities to 
effect it, should there be any occasion. Let me conjure you, then, 
if you have any regard for your country, concern for yourself or 
posterity, or respect for me, to banish these thoughts from your 
mind, and never communicate, as from yourself or any one else, a 
sentiment of a like nature. 

" I am. Sir, &c., 

George Washington.^' 

After the receipt of this letter nothing more was said in relation 
to the proposition. The effect of the refusal was more potent than 
it seemed at first. There were many who had secretly looked to a 
monarchy as the form of government under which they could most 
easily aggrandize themselves; but not one of these, after the rebuff from 



«04 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



the Commander-in-chief, dared to mention their designs, since, with- ■ 
out him, all their plots must fail. It is impossible to doubt that there 
would have been, at least, a serious struggle, perhaps a protract- 
ed civil war, in case Washington had acceded to the proposition. 
It must not be supposed, because the monarchists kept silence 
from that hour, that their numbers were few or that their de- 
signs were visionary. Who can tell the magnitude of the danger 
we escaped ? 

Such was Washington. His unselfish love of comitry, his stern 
sense of duty, and his high and incorruptible principles rendered him, 
as a patriot, even more superior than his great military talents did, 
as a General. The union of both made him the saviour of his coun- 
try. It is to his consummate judgment and his stern morality that 
we owe our success in the war and the subsequent establishment of 
our liberties. Had he suffered himself to be more brilUant ; had he 
given way to the natural impetuosity of his character ; had a false 
love of fame precipitated him into hasty enterprises, the army might 
have been annihilated and all effectual resistance put at an end, in 
the first yera'S of tha war. But, contrary to the bent of his genius, 
he adopted a line of cautious policy, until an army had been organ- 
ized fit to cope with the veterans of England. Few men would have 
had the courage to adhere to a resolution like this, at the sacrifice, 
for years, of his personal fame. Both Congress and the people, 
dazzled by the capture of Burgoyne, drew, at one time, invidious 
comparisons between Washington and Gates, and hesitated not to 
charge the former with inactivity, if not with incompetency : but, 
firm in consciousness of right, the American commander never 
wavered, and thus was the salvation of the war. To a certain ex- 
tent, even yet, he suffers for his wisdom ; and is depreciated as a 
military commander in exact proportion as his virtue is extolled. 
Let tardy justice be done him ! Washington was not less superior 
as a General than exalted as a patriot. His letters, written during 
the war, when compared with those of others shew a wonderful 
contrast, in the absence of that envy and party strife, the presence 
of which, more or less, characterizes the correspondence of his con- 
temporaries. The singular breadth and comprehensiveness of his 
views will startle the reader continually ; and the conclusion be irre- 
sistibly drawn, that no other man could have carried the country 
through the war One fact has never been presented in a sufficiently 
forcible light : we mean, that Congress, whenever refusing the advice 
of Washington^ always went wrong, and had eventually to retrace 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 205 

its Steps. In a word, the whole burden of the war lay on his shoul- 
ders. Nobly and triumphantly did he bear it through ! 

We come last to consider Washington as the hero. It has been 
well said that the great intellect dies with its possessor, but that the 
great heart survives forever, beckoning kindred natures to deeds of 
Heroic trust and self-sacrifice. The names of Alexander, Caesar, and 
of all earth's conquerors, do but dazzle the imagination; but Leonidas, 
and Tell, and Bruce, are talismanic words that will kindle enthu- 
siasm forever. We can well believe that the thought of these im- 
mortal patriots was in many a brave heart that went up to Bunker 
Hill. The heroes and martyrs of all ages ; how the blood leaps at 
mention of their names ! Wallace and Kosciuszko ; Latimer and 
Xavier ; those who perished for liberty, and those who died for con- 
science — will not their services be consecrated, in all true bosoms, 
until earth shall be no more ? Some have sunk on the baftle-field ; 
some have watered the scaffold with their blood ; some have perish- 
ed in the agonies of fire ; some have drawn their last breath on 
distant and savage coasts : these have been of one race and language, 
those of another : this endured all things for one faith, that for a dif- 
ferent : — but all, whatever their nation, or sect, or lineage, were the 
warriors of humanity, and suffered that mankind might be free. The 
good of all eras form but one great brotherhood. Our hearts yearn 
towards the martyrs and heroes of the past as towards dear kinsmen, 
long known and beloved. Thank God, for having thus linked dis- 
tant ages together by the ties of one common sympathy. The great 
souls scattered along the highway of history, are connected one to 
the other by an electric chain, and thus the influence of heroic 
deeds thrills from century to century, down the long avenue of 
Time ! 

Washington, above all others, is the hero of America ! In the long 
catalogue of the great and good no other name, perhaps, will ever 
rival his. If this confederacy should achieve but half the destinies 
apparently opening before it, he will descend to future ages as the 
founder of the mightiest republic the world has seen. What a des- 
tiny is that of our country ! With great capacity for social and 
material development; with institutions more free than those of any 
preceding nation ; with a race of people surpassed by no other of 
the Caucasian tribes ; and with a land whose boundless vallies and 
gigantic rivers reflect a portion of their own immensity upon the 
national mind, the career of the United States promises, like the 
eagle it has chosen for an emblem, to be onward and upward, until 

s 



206 



THE HEROES Olr THE REVOLUTION. 



the imagination, bewildered, shrinks from following its flight ! It is 
as the hero and founder of this republic that Washington will be 
reverenced by future times. 



One of the few, the immortal names, 
That were not born to die." 





JOSEPH WARREN 



HERE are three classes 
of men, who, in revo- 
lutions, rise to the sur- 
face of affairs. The 
first is composed of 
the ordinary military 
Generals. These are 
usually persons of great 
physical courage, more 
or less impetuous in 
their characters, capa- 
ble of bold and sudden 
enterprises, yet without the far-reaching views that perceive and 
prepare to avert danger long before the crisis. Such men, even in 
the army, fill secondary places, requiring to be directed by more 
comprehensive intellects. Murat is a case in point. Wayne, Put- 
nam, Morgan, and others of our revolutionary heroes, answer to this 
description. 

There is a second class, the members of which possess even greater 
merit, though, as their career is less dazzling, they rank below mili- 

207 




208 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

tary leaders in popular estimation. We allude to the men of thought, 
the distinguished civilians of their day, whose prescient knowledge 
sees the tempest in the cloud no bigger than a man's hand. The 
orators, pamphleteers, and legislators, who rouse the people to a 
sense of their rights, and who hazard in so doing all the penalties 
of treason, have not less courage, though of a different kind perhaps, 
than the soldier who charges to the cannon's mouth. To control 
with a firm hand the ship of state, when she rocks on the edge of 
the revolutionary whirlpool, requires great nerve, as well as intellec- 
tual ability Who will venture to place Adams, Jay and Jefferson 
in a lower scale than Chnton, Marion, or Stark ? The former faced 
death in his most terrible form, the axe, the gibbet, the grinning 
crowd : the others defied him on the field of battle, with the enthu- 
siasm of the strife to cheer them on. These had in prospect an 
ignominious execution in case of failure : those, the immortal glory 
of the hero dying on the battle-field. 

There is still a third class. This is composed of the men who in 
revolutionary times rise to the supreme direction of affairs, both civil 
and military. Such individuals combine the qualities which are most 
prominent in both the other classes, possessing the comprehiaisive 
and prescient intellect of the one united to the impetuosity and light- 
ning-like decision of the other. They are prudent as well as darmg ; 
wise, but also impetuous. They govern the popular mind, yet at the 
same time lead armies. They are pre-eminent in all things — now 
counselling in the Senate, now thundering in the front of war. Of 
this class were Cromwell, Napoleon and Washington. 

Warren, the subject of our present notice, belonged properly to 
the second of these classes, though he possessed many characteristics 
which allied him also to the first. He was born at Roxbury, Mas- 
sachusetts, in 1741. His father was chiefly employed in the culti- 
vation of land, and particularly in raising fruit ; and came to his 
death, when his son was still a child, by falling from an apple tree. 
The subject of our memoir entered Harvard University at fourteen 
years of age. Here he became remarked as a young man of supe- 
rior abilities, gentle manners, and a frank, independent and feailess 
character. Even at this early age he was celebrated for his daring 
courage. An anecdote, illustrative of this, yet survives. A college 
frolic was in contemplation, of which it was known Warren dia not 
approve, and fearing the effect of his example and eloquence, the 
leaders in the disturbance resolved to exclude him from their delibe- 
rations. But Warren vis not to be frustrated. The assembly was 
held in a room in an ip;«r story, and the door locked; yet Warren, 



JOSEPH WARREN. 209 

ascending to the roof, clambered dowii the spout, and sprang in at 
the window. The instant he was safe on the sill, the spout, which 
was old and decayed, fell, with a crash, to the ground. " It has 
served my purpose," quietly said Warren, and immediately pro- 
ceeded to the subject in debate. Such cool self-possession foresha- 
dowed future greatness. Already indeed had he begun to exhibit 
that rare union of valor and discretion which distinguished him in 
after life, and which, had he lived, might have elevated him to a 
position second only to that of Washington. 

In 1764, Warren established himself in Boston as a physician. His 
engaging manners and his amiable character, not less than his talents 
and his acquirements, opened before him an easy path to eminence 
and wealth. But troublous times were approaching ; the difficulties 
between the colonies and mother country had begun ; and Warren, 
with all the enthusiasm of his character, entered at once into the 
exciting struggle. His boldness terrified more timid minds. While 
many hesitated between old attachments and new acts of oppression, 
he declared that all kinds of taxation without representation, were 
tyrannical, and as such ought to be resisted. He publicly asserted 
his opinion that America was able to withstand any force that could 
be sent against her. Though one of the youngest, he was soon one 
of the most influential leaders on the popular side. From 1768, he 
was a member of the secret council in Boston, which advised most 
of the earlier measures of resistance. He twice acted as the public 
orator to deliver the anniversary address commemorative of the 
massacre in King street. The first address was made in 1772 : the 
last took place three years later. On this occasion, the mutual ex-, 
asperation between the troops and citizens was such as to render the 
post of the orator of the day a perilous one ; and Warren, finding 
others shrank from the duty, boldly volunteered to perform it. In 
executing his task, however, he acted with as much discretion as 
boldness. Says Everett, who narrates this circumstance, " When 
the day arrived, the aisles of the church, the pulpit stairs, the pulpit 
itself, was occupied by the officers and soldiers of the garrison, who 
were doubtless stationed there to overawe the orator, and, perhaps, 
prevent him, by force, from proceeding. Warren, to avoid interrup- 
tian and confusion, entered from the rear, by the pulpit window •, 
and, unmoved by the hostile military array that surrounded him and 
pressed upon his person, delivered the bold, stirring address which 
we have in print. While the oration was in progress, an officer, who 
was seated on the pulpit stairs, held up one of his hands, in view of 
*.he orator, with several pistol bullets on the open palm. Warren 
27 s* 



210 rsiE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

obserred the action, and, without discontinuing his discourse, drop- 
ped a white handkerchief on the officer's hand. How happy would 
It have been," continues the biographer, " if this gentle and graceful 
admonition could have arrested the march of violence." 

This little incident furnishes the key to Warren's character. Though 
in action bold to rashness, in council he was circumspect to a fault. 
Hence his influence over his fellow laborers. His judgment rarely 
erred. The wisdom of his counsel was always acknowledged, and has 
come-down to our own times as a tradition of something pre-eminent. 
On the aboUtion of the old royal Assembly, and the substitution for 
it of a provincial Congress in 1774, the estimation in which Warren 
was held by his fellow citizens became at once apparent. He was 
elected a delegate to the Congress, and on its organization * made 
President. The executive power of the state, under this new ar- 
rangement, was wielded by a committee of thirteen, chosen from 
the Congress, entitled the Committee of Public Safety. Of this War- 
ren was elected Chairman. Thus, in comparative youth, he became, 
in reality, the chief magistrate of Massachusetts. He was now, in 
fact, a sort of popular dictator, uniting in his person the whole civil 
and military power of the state. Every eye looked to him as to the 
pilot who should direct them in the approaching storm. Nor was 
he dismayed. Calm and high, he stood at the helm, watching the 
coming up of that ominous tempest ; and when the hurricane was 
about to burst, his voice was heard giving the first intimation of the 
peril. To him must be awarded the merit of setting the ball of revo- 
lution in motion. He prepared the people for the event, he originated 
the rising, he fought in the fray. Warren was the true hero of 
Lexington. 

For many months the popular and the royal parties had been 
growing more and more exasperated against each other. Men could 
see that a great crisis was approaching. Not only in New England, 
but throughout all the colonies, the symptoms of alienation and 
hatred increased daily. A continental Congress had assembled at 
Philadelphia, and though, in their public documents, the members 
still breathed peace and allegiance, their private fears pointed to a 
war as nearly inevitable. It needed only a spark to set them in 
a blaze. This was evident from the manner in which a rumor of 
the bombardment of Boston was received : the members started to 
their feet, and the cry to arms resounded through the house ; nor 
was it until the report had been proved untrue, that the excitement 
eduld be allayed. The whole nation, at this crisis, was in a state of 
alarm and foreboding scarcely to be comprehended. The thoughts 



JOSEPH WARREN. 211 

of men everywhere were unsettled. Wild rumors awoke, no one 
knew whence, to die as strangely ; and without any definite fears, 
all felt vague presentiments. 

Few as yet, even in New England, spoke openly of war. Warren 
himself said that, on the night preceding the outrage at Lexington, 
he did not helieve fifty men in the whole colony thought there would 
ever be blood shed in the quarrel. Preparations for a contest, 
nevertheless, went on. John Adams wrote home from Congress to 
train the people twice a week. The population was formed into 
companies, under regularly appointed officers, with orders to be in 
readiness to march at a moment's warning. The public stores were 
everywhere seized. But even the few who wished for war and 
regarded it as inevitable, exhorted to present moderation, hoping, as 
the end proved, to throw on the British the odium of striking the 
first blow. 

Gage, the royal commander, soon found that he was playing a 
losing game. The time for conciliation was past. His inactivity 
only allowed the colonists leisure to perfect their military arrange- 
ments. He was, in fact, being check-mated without a move. He 
determined, accordingly, to change his tactics, and arrest the prepa- 
rations of the patriots. For this purpose he planned the seizure of 
some stores, which he learned had been collected at Concord, New 
Hampshire ; but, in order to avoid a collision, he concealed his object 
even from his own army, resolving to effect his wishes by surprise, 
rather than by open force. It was not until the day before the bat- 
tle of Lexington, that Gage, calling together the officers to whom he 
intended entrusting the expedition, informed them of his purpose ; 
and even after the troops had marched, their destination was con- 
cealed from the common soldiers, lest some treacherous voice should 
betray the contemplated movement to the colonists. 

A suspicion of the enterprise had got abroad, however, and the 
patriots, with Warren at their head, were actively on the watch, 
A portion of the stores was removed from Concord, and distributed 
among the neighboring towns. John Hancock and Samuel Adams, 
who had retired for safety to Lexington, were warned of the 
approaching crisis : and lest messengers should be prevented leav.mg 
the city, it was arranged with the patriots in Charlestown, that if the 
expedition set out by water, two lights should be displayed on the 
steeple of the North Church ; if it marched over the Neck, through 
Roxbury, only one. About nine o'clock on the evening of the 18th 
of April, 1775, the royal troops, about one thousand in num- 
ber, were embarked, under Colonel Small, at the bottom of the 



212 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLtJTlON. 

comm3n. Warren, who had just returned from West Cambridge 
where he had met the Committee of Safety, saw the embarkation 
in person ; and immediately despatching Mr. Davies overland to 
Lexington to raise the country, sent for his friend Colonel Revere, 
to induce him to proceed through Charlestown on the same errand. 
Before eleven o'clock, the Colonel, having first displayed two lights 
on the steeple of the North Church, had rowed across- from the 
upper part of the city to Charlestown, from which; in the dead of 
night, he pursued his way through West Cambridge to Lexington, 
running in safety, the gauntlet of the British officers who had been 
stationed, at difi'erent points on the road, to intercept messengers 
from the town. It was well that he had not delayed, for after the 
embarkation of the troops. Gage, to prevent an alarm, had ordered 
that no person should be allowed to leave Boston. 

At Lexington, Colonel Revere met Mr. Davies, the other messen- 
ger, whom, however, he had anticipated ; Hancock and Adams 
were warned to fly ; and together the emissaries galloped on towards 
Concord, rousing the population *as they went. In part, they had 
been anticipated by the signals on the North Church steeple. Lights 
were flashing in the houses as they passed ; the inhabitants in the 
villages were seen collecting : everything betokened the excitement 
and enthusiasm of a first alarm. All through that April night the 
noise of hasty preparation was heard. In consequence, before morn- 
ing, the militia along the road were mostly in arms, and rapidly 
concentrating to resist the approaching invaders. A body of these 
men had already assembled on Lexington green, when, through the 
grey of the dawn, the British troops were seen suddenly advancing. 
For a moment, the surprise was mutual : then Major Pitcairn cried 
" Disperse, you rebels, lay down your arms and disperse." The 
Americans still kept their ground, hesitating, when Major Pitcairn 
ordered the soldiers to fire. Several of the patriots fell. The rest 
then dispersed, returning a scattering volley as they fled : and the 
British, exulting in their victory, but not without uneasy forebodings, 
hurried forward to Concord. Here they found a few colonists, who 
fled before them. Without loss of time, they proceeded to destroy 
the public stores. This task being finished, they set out on their 
return, the more experienced of their leaders knowing well what 
was in stor,e for them. 

For now the whole country was in commotion. What followed was 
rather a popular tumult than a regular battle. The news of the massa- 
cre, as the collision at Lexington was called, had spread through the 
ueighboring country with the speed of iightnmg. The church bells 



JOSEPH WARREN. 213 

?4amored from hill to hill. The fife echoed its notes of shrill alarm 
in once quiet villages. The farmer left his plough in the furrow ; 
the artizan hurried from his forge ; and even the invalid foigot his 
pains, and calling for his father's musket, strove to rise f^^om his 
couch. Messengers, on fleet horses, scoured the country, carrying 
the intelligence to the remoter towns. An aged relative of the 
writer, then in her youth, was standing at her father's door towards 
noon of that celebrated day. Suddenly a horseman, his steed 
covered with foam, crossed the crest of the village hill ahead. He 
came on, and on, and on, waving his hat, amid clouds of rolling 
dust. The villagers rushed from their doors. All at once, as he 
drew near, he raised himself in his stirrups, and shouted, " the bat- 
tle 's begun, the battle 's begun." Every one knew the meaning 
of those words. A long and continuous shout followed him as he 
dashed down the street towards the village inn ; and when he flung 
himself exhausted from his steed, a dozen men stepped forward to 
carry the news to the remoter towns. Thus the intelligence was 
passed from county to county, until the whole province shook in its 
length and breadth with the enthusiasm of the hour. 

At the summons, the country rose, like a giant rending the green 
withes that bound him. The vague feeling of loyalty, which had 
hngered, like a spell, in the bosoms of the people, was cast off, and 
forever, as they listened indignantly to the news of the massacre. 
At once, every village and farm house discharged its living contents 
to swell the tide of popular vengeance that begun to roar after the 
foe. From hill and valley ; from work-shop and closet ; from the 
poor man's cottage and the rich man's hall, the avenging hosts 
poured forth to the strife, their fifes playing that old Yankee air 
which has led Americans so often since to victory. They were clad 
in no flaunting uniforms, but came as the summons found them. 
They bore no glittering arms, but only the rusty household gun. 
Yet they burned with indomitable zeal. And when, as they reached 
the elevated grounds above the Lexington road, the sight of the 
retreating enemy burst, for the first time, upon them, their excite- 
ment became almost uncontrollable, and long and repeated cheers 
frequently rent the air. The blood kindles even now to hear old 
men, who fought there, recount that spectacle ! The enemy were 
in the valley below, no longer the proud looking soldiery of the day 
before, but a crowd of weary and travel soiled fugitives, evidentl}'' 
hurrying desperately on. Clouds of dust, rising around them, con- 
tinually hid their ranks from sight, though occasionally a sunbeam 
would penetrate the gloom, and their arms flash out like a gold( n 



214 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

ripple. No inspiring sound of fife was heard, except at rare inter* 
vals, in those disordered ranks ; no glorious roll of drums; no stir- 
ring bl^st of trumpets. The exhilaration of spirit was all on the side 
of the colonists. Dejected and crest-fallen, the British hurried on ; 
exulting and triumphant, the patriots pursued. It was as if the 
whole country had risen, with horn and hound, to chase to his lair 
some long dreaded wolf, who now, sullen and cowed at last^ pressed 
desperately on, glad even to escape with life. 

The assaults of the colonists were not conducted after any regular 
method : indeed, there was no leader in the field to direct and unite 
their movements. They fought each in his own manner, or in 
squads, as at Monterey. Now a bold horseman would gallop up 
within gun-shot of the fugitives, and deliberately taking aim, fire : 
then, wheeling his horse, would retire to re-load, when he would 
renew the attack. Now a few provincials would conceal themselves 
behind some hedge or out-house, on the flank of the foe, and, as the 
British passed, the whole line, in succession, would blaze on the 
enemy. To add to the tumult, the royal troops, in revenge for acts 
like these, began to fire the dwellings on their flank ; and frequently 
the homeless mother, with her babes, was seen flying, through the 
horrors of the battle, to seek shelter behind the hills. At this, the 
exasperation of the colonists deepened to fury. The church bells 
clanged louder and faster. Those, who at first, from age or debility, 
had looked on in quiet, seized whatever off'ensive weapon was 
nearest to hand, and hurried to the strife. Old men came running, 
their white hairs streaming in the wind : boys, catching the enthusi- 
asm of manhood, loaded the muskets they could scarcely carry. 
Some galloped along the highway ; some over the fields. Every 
lane that debouched into the main-road, yielded its quota to the bat- 
tle. As the fugitives saw all this, as they beheld the circle of their 
foes narrowing around them, their hearts began to fail, and only the 
stern words of their leaders roused them to hurry on. At times, 
indeed, stung to savage fury, they turned, gnashing, but vainly, on 
the foe. The roar of the pursuing multitude grew louder every 
instant. It was no longer a retreat, it was a flight. Major Pitcairn, 
conspicuous by his uniform, and alarmed for his life, abandoned his 
horse, and on foot, hid himself among his men. 

The British troops at last reached Lexington, where, fortunately, 
they met Lord Percy, who had hastened from Boston, with eight hun- 
dred men, and two pieces of cannon, to their relief The united 
force of the royal troops was sufficiently imposing to check the pur- 
cuit for a while : and accordingly a halt was ordered, in order to 



/ JOSEPH WARREN. 21 S 

refresh the fugitives, and allow them to take dinner. But the colo 
nists continued gathering in such dark and ominous masses on the 
elevations around, that before two hours had elapsed, Lord Percy- 
thought it advisable to proceed. The moment he set his troops in 
motion, the assailants, hovering on the rear and flank, resumed their 
offensive operations. Their superior knowledge of the roads enabled 
them to annoy the flying enemy at every turn : while, wherever a 
stone wall, or other covert aff'orded shelter, they lay in ambush with 
their deadly rifles. It was at West Cambridge, after the junction 
between Small and Lord Percy, that Warren first joined the fight. 
He was at this place, in attendance on the Committee of Safety, but 
hearing the sound of the approaching battle, he rushed from the 
Assembly, seized a musket, and, in company with General Heath, 
dashed into the foremost fray. No one, to have seen him then, 
would ever have supposed he was so calm and sage in council. 
Raging in the very front of the fight, his fine face glowing with 
enthusiasm, he became speedily a mark for the enemy's muskets, 
and more than one ball narrowly missed him. At last a bullet, more 
accurate than usual, cut off" the long, close curl, which, in the fashion 
of the day, he wore above his ear ; but even this could not intimidate 
him, or induce him to expose his person less rashly ; he continued 
thundering at the head of the pursuit, until the enemy reached 
Charlestown Neck. Here the chase was necessarily abandoned. 
The colonists drew ofl": and the British, fatigued and famished, 
threw themselves on the bare ground, on Bunker Hill, where, pro- 
tected by the guns of a royal frigate, they slept secure. The next 
day they pursued their march into Boston. 

Events now hurried after each other in rapid succession. The 
Massachussetts Congress, the very next day, resolved that thirty 
thousand men were wanted for the defence of New England ; that, 
of this number Massachusetts would furnish thirteen thousand six 
hundred, and that the other colonies be requested to supply the 
balance. The same body drew up regulations for this army, and 
voted an issue of paper money. The people rose with alacrity in 
answer to this call. The old Generals of the French war came forth 
from their retreats, and hurried to join their younger companions in 
arms. Putnam left his plough in Connecticut, and within twenty- 
four hours was at Cambridge. Stark hastened down with his New 
Hampshire volunteers. Gridley threw up his pension, and joined 
the patriots. Before the middle of June, an army of fifteen thousand 
men had assembled around Boston, which they proceeded regularly 
to invest, estabhshing a line of redoubts from Cambridge to Roxbury. 



216 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

a circuit of nearly twelve miles. On the 2 1st of May, General Ward 
had been commissioned as Commander-in-chief of the Massachussetts 
forces. He fixed his head-quarters at Cambridge. Putnam, though 
really independent of him, tacitly consented to act as his subordinate. 
He lay, with a portion of the Connecticut troops, at Inman's farm, 
in advance of the main body, near the Charlestown road. Brigadier- 
General Thomas commanded at Roxbury. Among the other leading 
officers in camp, not already mentioned, were General Pomeroy and 
Colonel Prescott, both heroes of the old French war. 

The concentration of the provincial army around the peninsula of 
Boston, naturally suggested to General Gage the idea of occupying 
Charlestown Heights. We shall explain the benefit of this more fully, 
when we come to recur to the subject in the life of Putnam. It was 
instantly proposed, in the council of war, to anticipate General Gage ; 
and, on this proposition, an animated debate ensued. There was, 
at that time, only eleven barrels of powder in the camp, and but 
sixty -seven within the state of Massachussetts : and, as the seizure 
of Charlestown Heights would probably bring on a battle, many 
considered this stock of ammunition too small. Among these was 
Warren. Putnam and Prescott, but especially the former, advised 
the bolder, not to say less prudent plan : and their arguments backed 
by the influence of their acknowledged experience, carried the day. 
It was fortunate that, in this solitary instance, the advice of Warren 
was disregarded. Had the attempt been postponed, it could never 
have been made at all ; and we should thus have been without one 
of the most glorious events in our history. Technically speaking, 
the Americans were defeated at Bunker Hill, but the defeat was of 
such a character as to answer all the purposes of a victory. In 
justice to Warren, we must add that the repulse occurred from the 
want of powder, as he had foretold. 

On the 14th of June, three days before this remarkable battle, 
Warren received a commission as Major-General from the provin- 
cial Congress. On the 16th, he was at Watertown, presiding over 
that august body. The whole of that night, the last he was to live, 
he spent in transacting public business. At daylight, on the 17th, 
he rode to Cambridge, where he arrived, suffering under a severe 
head-ache, which compelled him to retire for repose. He was soon 
■I wakened, however, by information that the British were moving to 
attacK Bunker Hill. He rose instantly, declared his head-ache gone, 
and hastened to the meeting of the Committee of Safety, of which 
lie was Chairman. Here he expressed his determination to join per- 
sonally in the fight. He was urged not to expose himself thus. " I 



JOSEPH WARREN. 217 

Know that I may fall," replied Warren, " but where is the man who 
does not think it glorious and delightful to die for his country." 
When the Committee adjourned, he called for his horse, sprang into 
the saddle, and galloped towards Charlestown. "Both armies were 
breathlessly awaiting the signal for attack, when a solitary horseman 
dashed across Charlestown Neck, regardless of the fire of the shipping 
directed towards that point, and was seen advancing at full speed 
upon the American lines. As he crossed Bunker Hill, General Put-* 
nam, who was there erecting a redoubt, rode forward. " General 
Warren," he exclaimed, " can this be you? I rejoice and regret to 
see you. Your life is too precious to be exposed in this battle ; but 
since you are here, I take your orders." " Not so," replied Warren, 
" I come only as a volunteer. Tell me where I can be useful." 
" Go then to the redoubt," said Putnam, " you will there be cov- 
ered." " I came not to be covered," answered Warren, " tell me 
where the peril is — where the action will be hottest." " To the 
redoubt then," cried Putnam, waving his hand. Warren dashed 
spurs into his horse's sides, and shot like an arrow, on his way. He 
sped down the slight acclivity of Bunker's Hill, across the inter- 
vening depression, and up Breed's Hill, where his person was recog- 
nised with long and loud huzzas as he galloped along the line. At 
the redoubt he found Colonel Prescott, before whom he checked 
his foaming steed. The Colonel hastened forward, and offered to 
take his orders. " No," said Warren, springing from the saddle, 
" give me yours : I come as a volunteer ; give me a musket. I am 
here to take a lesson of a veteran soldier in the art of war." 

The heroic character of Warren was evinced in all his actions on 
that day. He had been opposed, as we have seen, to the battle, 
from motives of prudence : but the moment the conflict became ine- 
vitable, he dismissed every consideration except that of participating 
in it with glory. The time for the exercise of discretion had passed : 
the moment for valorous action had come. He knew that much 
depended on the manner in which the leaders behaved ; and he was 
resolved that no one should say he remained at home in safety, while 
others were bleeding in the fight. Throughout the whole of that day 
he bore himself among the bravest — his voice and example encou- 
raging the troops. When the retreat was ordered, as if loath to leave, 
he lingered behind. He had been marked out conspicuously by his 
conduct, and as he was slowly retiring, at the distance of only a few 
rods, an English officer snatched a musket from a soldier, and taking 
deliberate aim, shot him through the head. He fell weltering in 
blood. General Howe, at this time, was not far off, leaning on the 
ami of Colonel Small, having been lamed by a spent ball striking 
28 T 



218 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

his ankle. Seeing Warren sink to the earth, he said to Colonel 
Small, " Do you see that elegant young man who has just fallen ?'* 
<"' Good God, sir," replied Small, " I believe it is my friend Warren." 
" Leave me, then, instantly," said Howe, " run — ^keep oiF the troops 
— save him, if possible." Small flew to the spot. When he arrived, 
a provincial was supporting Warren's head. " My dear friend," 
cried Small, kneeling anxiously down, " I hope you are not hurt." 
The dying hero faintly opened his eyes, looked up into the speaker's 
face, and smiling, as if in recognition, died. 

Thus fell Warren, the first martyr of the Revolution, at the age of 
thirty -four. His death was regarded as so important that the British 
General considered the war as virtually at an end in consequence. 
Some writers have regretted that he died prematurely for his fame ; 
as he was fitted to play a prominent part in the drama just opening. 
Yet his was a glorious death. His memory is enshrined in the hearts 
of his countrymen, and history has placed him among the noble 
company of patriots and martyrs whose renown is eternal. 

Warren left four children, two sons and two daughters : his wife 
had already preceded him to the grave. The continental Congress 
took on itself the education of his eldest son. The other children, 
were, for a time, assisted by Arnold, until Congress provided for 
them also. The sons both died soon after reaching the age of maturity. 
The daughters married; but one of them only has left posterity. 





ISRAEL PUTNAM, 




SRAEL Put 

nam, a Majoi- 



General in 
continental 



the 
ar- 



my, was one of 
the most daring 
spirits of the Re- 
volution. He had 
not the compre- 
hensive mind re- 
quired for a great 
strategist 5 but in 
leading a column 
to the storm, or 
in any emergen 

cy requiring indomitable valor, possessed no rival. He needed some 
one to plan, but he was a Paladin to execute. His name was almost 
miraculous. Other military leaders distinguished themselves in bat- 
tle ; Putnam was the battle itself. 

219 



i20 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

Israel Putnam was bom at Salem, Massachusetts, on the 7th day 
of January, 1718. He received but little education, and displayed 
no peculiar taste for learning. He was chiefly remarkable, as a boy, 
for boldness, independence and courage. The first time he visited 
Boston he was jeered for his rusticity by a lad twice his size. Put- 
nam attacked and soundly threshed his insulter. As he grew up he 
became distinguished for feats of personal skill and strength : and in 
leaping, running and wrestlmg had no superiors. In 1739, he mar 
ried, and shortly after emigrated to Poinfret, Connecticut, where he 
engaged in farming, at first under many disadvantages, but finally 
with profit. It was abotit this period that he pursued and shot, in 
her cave, the she-wolf which had so long been a terror to the neigh- 
borhood : a story familiar to every school boy, and which we only 
refer to here, in order to shew the adventurous and daring spirit of 
Putnam. When the French war broke out his ardent genius found 
vent in a higher sphere. He was appointed to command a company 
raised in Connecticut in 1755, to operate in the expedition against 
Crown Point; and in 1757, was elevated to the rank of Major, his 
services having been considered so important as to deserve this 
compliment. Numerous anecdotes are told of his presence of mind, 
and romantic escapes during the several campaigns in which he took 
a part. It was at Putnam's side that the lamented Lord Howe fell, 
on the 6th of July, 1758. On one occasion Putnam was captured by 
the savages, who proceeded, in their inhuman way, to torture him 
to death. He was already stripped naked and tied to the stake ; the 
fire had been kindled ; and the Indians were dancing and yelling 
around in fiendish delight, when a French officer rushed in, scattered 
the blazing brands, and unbinding the victim, carried him in safety 
to his quarters. He was subsequently conducted to Montreal, where 
he arrived almost without clothes, his body torn by briars, his face 
gashed by the tomahawk, and his whole appearance miserable and 
squalid to the last degree. Colonel Peter Schuyler was then at 
Montreal, a prisoner also. He was indignant at this treatment to- 
wards Putnam, clothed him, procured his reception as became his 
rank, and afterwards obtained his exchange. 

In 1759, Putnam, who had been raised to the rank of Lieutenant- 
Colonel, accompanied General Amherst in the latter's expedition 
against Ticonderoga and Crown Point. In this campaign he proved 
of the greatest service, by his ingenuity no less than by his courage, 
At one time he proposed to reduce the enemy's squadron on Lake 
Champlain by attacking each ship in a batteau, and driving a wedge 
between the rudder and stern, by which to render the vessel mirna- 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 



221 




RUINS OF OLD FOKT TICOXDEROGA 



nageable ; but, just as the assault was about to begin, the ships sut 
rendered. In 1762, he went to Cuba, at the head of a regiment, to 
assist in the attack on Havana. Here he was shipwrecked ; but, 
through his presence of mind the troops were saved. In 1764, having 
been raised to the rank of a Colonel, he marched against the western 
Indians ; but the campaign gave him no opportunity to signalize 
himself, and on the treaty in the ensuing year, Putnam returned 
home, after having been engaged in miUtary hfe nearly ten years. 

He carried with him into his retirement, one of the best reputations 
as an officer in the colonies. He boasted httle military knowledge 
except such as was the result of experience ; but he had ingenuity, 
energy and courage, qualities which education could not give. His 
bravery was of no common kind. The stormier the battle grew, the 
more fearless he became : the deadlier the crisis, the cooler his self- 
possession. It was said of him already, that he " dared to lead 
where any dared to follow.'^ In no other man, from his section of 
the provinces, had the soldiers equal confidence in a desperate strife. 
His towering form was like a banner to them through the cloud and 
smoke of battle. 



822 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

When the difficulties between the mother country and the colonies 
begun, Putnam was looked up to for counsel, and at once, took sides 
with the provinces. He was one of the foremost actors in the popu- 
lar demonstration which compelled the collectors of stamps, in Con- 
necticut, to relinquish their offices. Throughout the whole affair, 
his decision and energy were prominent. Minds like his, always 
rally the masses around them in threatening times, and each year 
added to the influence of Putnam. He frequently visited Boston, 
where he was familiarly known to the royal officers, many of whom 
had served with him during the French war. On one occasion, he 
was asked what he would do, if the dispute should end in hostilities. 
" I will stand by my country," stoutly replied Putnam. An officer 
happening to say triumphantly, that an army of five thousand vete- 
rans might march from one end of the continent to the other. " No 
doubt," replied Putnam, "if they conducted themselves properly, and 
paid for what they wanted : but, should they attempt it in a hostile 
manner, the American women would brain them with their ladles." 

Putnam was quietly ploughing in his field, nearly a hundred 
miles from the field of Lexington, when a horseman, carrying a drum, 
galloped up and announced the news of the massacre. Instantly the 
old hero was on fire. He unyoked his team, sprang on one of the 
horses, and telling his little son, who was with him, to go home and 
acquaint Mrs. Putnam whither he had gone, dashed off" on the road 
to Boston, where he arrived in less than twenty-four hours. On 
the 21st, two days after the battle, he attended a council of war at 
Cambridge : then, 'at the summons of the Legislature of Connecticut, 
he ffew back to that state ; and in less than a week, having raised 
three thousand troops, and accepted the commission of Brigadier- 
General, was once more at head-quarters, having traversed the 
country, in the discharge of his several missions, with a rapidity that 
resembled that of some wild meteor. At Cambridge, he was first 
in command of the Connecticut recruits. His position, when the 
besieging army had taken its ground, was in the advance at Inman's 
Farm, on the Charlestown road. 

It was while thus beleaguering Boston, that Putnam received the 
off'er of a Major-GeneraPs commission, besides a large pecimiary 
recompense, provided he would abandon the cause of the colonists, 
and join the British side. The bribe was indignantly spurned. 
Meantime a month had passed since the provincial army had assem- 
bled for the siege, and nothing effective had been done, though 
skirmishes were occasionally occurring between detachments on both 
sides. Putnam became impatient for action. His soul was one of 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 823 

those thai fretted at inactivity : he longed to strike some blow that 
should terrify the enemy, and inspire the Americans. An opportu- 
mty was not long wanting. General Gage, it was discovered by 
spies, was about to fortify the entrance to the peninsula of Charles- 
town; and, to prevent this, even at the risk of a battle, at once 
became Putnam's secret design. 

The peninsula of Charlestown is rather more than a mile in length, 
from east to west, and two-thirds of a mile in breadth, from north 
to south. It is washed on the north by the Mystic River, and on 
the south by the Charles, the two rivers approaching within a hun- 
dred yards of each other at the neck of the peninsula. A narrow 
channel divides it from Boston, on the east. Bunker Hill begins at 
the Neck, and rises to the height of above a hundred feet : then, 
declining towards the east, runs along the shore of the Mystic, par- 
allel to Breed's Hill. This last begins near the southern extremity 
of Bunker, and rising to the height of eighty-seven feet, extends to 
the south and east, the two summits being about one hundred and 
thirty rods apart. To the east and north of Breed's Hill the ground 
^was low and marshy. Charlestown lay on the south side of the 
hill, and had already begun to extend up its slope. Morton's Point, 
where the Navy Yard now is, formed the north-eastern extremity 
of the peninsula. The peninsula was traversed by a road, which, 
crossing Bunker Hill, swept around Breed's, ajpproaching very near 
the summit of the latter, on the southern side. 

The object of Gage, in seizing Bunker Hill, was to fortify the 
entrance of Charlestown peninsula, both for his own security, and 
as a vantage ground, from which to dislodge the Americans from 
their entrenchments. A council of war was called in the provincial 
camp on receiving intelHgence of his conternplated movement. 
Putnam and Pomeroy advocated the seizure of the hill, by a portion 
of their own force, to prevent the English from obtaining it : Ward 
and Warren opposed the measure, as calculated to bring on an 
engagement, for which they did not believe the American army 
prepared. Their chief argument was the scarcity of powder. 
But Putnam was anxious for a fight. The scene, in that coun- 
cil, was a memorable one. "We will risk only two thousand 
men," said he, " and if driven to retreat, every stone-wall shall 
be lined with dead. If surrounded, and escape cut off, we shall 
set our country an example of which it shall not be ashamed, 
and teach mercenaries what men can do, who are determmed 
to live or die free." At these stirring words, Warren, who 
had been walking the floor, stopped and said, " Almost thou per- 
suadest me, General Putnam: still the project is rash; yet, if you 



a;t4 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

go, be not surprised to find me at your side." '* I hope not," said 
Putnam, earnestly, laying his hand on his young associate's shoulder, 
" let us who are old and can be spared, begin the fray There will 
be time enough for you hereafter, for it will not soon be over." 
The bolder counsel of Putnam, aided by his enthusiasm, prevailed; 
and when the council broke up, it had been resolved to seize and 
fortify Bunker Hill. 

It was after twihght, on the 16th of June, 1775, that the detach- 
ment, selected for this enterprise, left Cambridge, and took its way, 
in silence and darkness, across the Neck into the peninsula. It was 
necessary to move with caution, for two men-of-war lay in Charles 
River, commanding the Neck. Colonel Prescott, who had charge 
of the expedition, led the way, attended by two sergeants carrying 
dark lanterns. Arrived at Bunker Hill, a consultation was held as 
to whether it would be best to fortify that height, or advance to 
Breed's Hill, which was nearer Boston. It was finally determined 
to erect the principal works on the latter place, and construct a 
smaller redoubt in the rear, on Bunker Hill. This resolution was 
in consequence of Putnam's counsel, who, all through the prehm-, 
inary transactions, evidently labored to render a battle inevitable. 

All through that night the provincials labored incessantly, and 
when morning broke, their work was well advanced. No suspicion 
of what was going on meantime had reached the city. Silence 
reigned in the deserted streets of Boston, and the sentry, as he went 
his rounds, distinguished no unusual noises. At last the sun, rising 
through the haze on the eastern horizon, shot his lurid rays along 
the summit of Breed's Hill ; and to the astonishment of the sentries, 
the beams were reflected back from a long line of ghttering steel. 
Instantly the American fortification stood revealed ! The discovery 
was first made on board a British sloop-of-war, which promptly 
fired an alarm gun. This was replied to by the Somerset frigate, 
from the more immediate vicinity of the fortification. Instantly, 
all Boston was aroused by the unusual sounds. The rumor of their 
cause soon spread. The people and soldiery, crowding to the North 
End, could scarcely believe what they saw, the redoubt and its brave 
occupiers appearing as if they had risen by enchantment in the 
nigtit. But the enemy lost no time in idle wonder. The shipping 
at once opened their fire on the entrenchments, and soon the battery 
at Copp's Hill, Boston, began to play. Bombs were seen, black 
find threatening, traversing the sky : shot richochetted along the 
sides of Breed's : and the thunder of continual explosions sho :>k the 
windows of the city, and echoed oflf among the neighborhig hills* 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 225 

Putnam /lad left the detachment, immediately after midnight, and 
returned to his quarters ; but, at the first sound of the cannon, he 
galloped to the scene of action. Here, it was proposed by some, to 
send to camp for a relief; but Prescott urged that the men who 
raised the works were best entitled to the honor of defending them. 
He consented, however, to despatch a messenger to General Ward 
for refreshments. Putnam, perceiving, from the bustle in Boston, 
how imposing a force was mustering to the attack, hurried back to 
camp, thinking his presence might carry influence with it, and 
begged the Commander-in-chief to reinforce the redoubt. But Gene- 
ral Ward was convinced that the enemy intended to attack the main 
army, and hence refused. He would not even allow the troops of 
Putnam to follow their leader. Putnam himself, however, could not 
be restrained. He remained at Inman's farm only long enough to be 
satisfied that the enemy did not contemplate a landing at that posi- 
tion, and then, flinging himself on his horse, dashed off" towards 
Bunker Hill, his blood quickening as he approached the scene of 
action, and the cannonade seemed to grow louder and more inces- 
sant. 

Putnam now labored to throw up a redoubt on Bunker Hill, 
while Prescott, with the larger detachment, worked assiduously on 
that at Breed's. At this latter place a redoubt, eight rods square, 
was erected ; while a breastwork extended, from its north-eastern 
angle, in a northerly direction, to the marshy ground, or slough, in 
that quarter. Just as the battle was about to begin, the American 
line of defence, at Putnam's suggestion, was extended from the 
slough across the ridge to the Mystic River, by the erection of two 
parallel rail fences, filled up between with new made hay. Mean- 
time, Prescott applied again to General Ward for reinforcements. 
Putnam, too, finding the crisis approaching, galloped once more to 
head-quarters ; this time, it is said, in his shirt-sleeves, for he was 
too excited to think of his coat, which he had cast ofl" to assist his 
men. Aid at last was granted, the designs of the enemy no longer 
being doubtful. 

He was absent but a short period, and soon hurried back to Bun- 
ker Hill, where he remained, busily animating the men. Prescott, 
m the main fortification, equally encouraged to assiduity. The 
redoubt was now nearly finished. As the provincials rested a mo- 
riient on their spades and looked off" towards the neighboring country, 
they witnessed a spectacle which fired each patriotic bosom anew. 
It was now the height of the summer solstice. Far away, the quiet 
farm-houses, amid their waving fields, slept in the sultry noon-tide. 
29 



22S THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

Here and there, in the laps of the hills, stood the white churches 
their spires peeping out above the elms that shaded New England' 
ancestral graves. How peaceful the prospect — ^yet how inspiriting its 
associations ! Changing the direction of the eye, and looking towards 
the south, Boston, with her thousand troops, was seen beneath. An 
ominous buzz floated up from her streets, as if the whole population 
was in motion, above which at intervals rose the blare of trumpets, 
the shriller note of the fife, and the rumbling of artillery wagons.. 
Whole companies of troops were already mustered along the wharves 
as if in readiness to be embarked. The cannon, from the shipping, 
thundered continually. 

This spectacle might have moved stouter hearts, but it struck 
no terror to the provincials, who labored silently on. Noon 
passed, yet they still toiled on. Since they had left Cambridge 
the night before, not a morsel of food had passed their lips; 
and now one o'clock was come ; yet they still toiled on. Shells 
exploded, and cannon balls ploughed up the earth around; yet 
they toiled on. One of their comrades fell; they buried him 
where he died ; — and toiled on. There was something stern and 
terrible in such demeanor. No shouts rent the air ; no martial music 
cheered their task; no time-hallowed banner waved above their 
heads : — there was nothing of the usual accompaniments of war to 
excite and madden their imaginations ! But there were other things 
as spirit-stirring ; for, as they looked ofi" towards the mainland, they 
could see the dim walls of their homes; and almost fancy they beheld, 
gazing on, their wives, their sires, or the mothers that gave them 
milk. All over the surrounding hills were groups gathered in anx- 
ious expectation; while, in Boston, crowds lined the wharves, hung 
on the roofs, or looked down from the church steeples. Not a cloud 
obscured the sky. It was a panorama such as the world has never 
seen since. 

Noon had scarcely passed, when the British, to the number of 
three thousand men, with three pieces of artillery, landed at Mor- 
ton's Point, under command of General Howe. The field pieces of 
the enemy immediately began to play, and were answered, for a 
while, by some cannon from the redoubt ; but these soon becoming 
useless, were carried to the rear. Meantime Warren had arrived on 
the field, and shortly after him General Pomeroy : both these well 
known patriots were received with cheers as they rode along the 
line. The men were in the highest spirits. Putnam remained working 
at his redoubt on Bunker Hill, until towards three o'clock, when it 
became evident the enemy were about to advance. Then he has- 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 



227 




BATTLT-, OF BUNKER HIIJ. 



tened to Breed's Hill, where he rode along the line, his presence 
increasing, if that were possible, the enthusiasm of the men. 

It was a splendid spectacle, all cotemporary witnesses agree, that 
of the British army, as it advanced to the attack. It seemed as if a 
single volley from it would annihilate the Americans. The proud 
step of the grenadiers ; their lofty height ; their glittering arms ; and 
the exulting bursts of music which accompanied their march realized 
all that had ever been imagined of the might and panoply of war. 
The men came on in columns, their artillery playing in the advance. 
As the imposing array moved, through the long grass, up the hill, 
the provincials, manning their entrenchments, stood anxiously await- 
ing the crisis. Few of them had ever been in action before. Their 
best weapons were muskets without bayonets : not a few had only 
rusty firelocks. Doubtless many a stout yeoman's bosom throbbed 
that day with terrible suspense. Putnam, Prescott and Pomeroy 
passed among the men encouraging and instructing them. " Do not 
fire imtil you can see their waistbands," said Putnam. " Ta,ke a 
steady aim and ha/e a care not to throw away your balls." 



228 THE HEROES 01' THE REVOLTTTlOIf. 

The enemy advanced slowly, stopping to let his artillery play, and 
afterwards stepping quicker and discharging volley after volley. The 
thousands of spectators in Boston and elsewhere, seeing no return 
made to this fire, fancied the provincials were paralyzed with fear. 
Nearer, still nearer, the grenadiers approached, and now were close 
upon the redoubt. Suddenly a gush of flame streamed from one end 
of the entrenchment, and ran swiftly along the American line, until 
the whole front was a blaze of fire : a white cloud of smoke' shot 
forward, concealing the assailants from sight : a rattling sound, shar^ 
and incessant, followed : and then, after a breathless pause of sus- 
pense, which may have continued ten or even twenty seconds, for in 
that thrilling interval no one thought of time, the British army 
emerged in disorder from the smoke, and was seen, in full retreat, 
recoiling down the hill. Just as the British turned to fly, a form 
leaped up on the parapet, and a voice cried tauntingly after one of 
the fugitives who was known to have sneered at American bravery^ 
" Colonel Abercrombie, do you call the Yankees cowards, now ?" 

The provincials had conquered. The spectators drew a long 
breath. But suddenly, and almost before their exhilaration had 
time to spread, a scene met their view which changed those feelings 
of triumph into horror and hate. Charlestown, the home of many 
of them, lying directly at the foot of Breed's Hill, was discovered to 
be in flames. Sir William Howe had ordered it to be set on fire 
while he made his preparations for a second attack. Soon the raging 
element was in full play. The flames caught rapidly from house to 
house, rolling volumes of smoke to the sky. Their crackling sound 
smote incessantly on the ear. As the conflagration spread, it reached 
the church, up whose lofty spire the subtle essence ran, and streamed 
far above the vane, a pillar of fire. Sparks were hurried up in mil- 
lions, accompanied by burning fragments, starring with gold the 
black canopy that now hung over the city. The warehouses began 
to explode their combustible materials. Women were seen aban- 
doning their houses, glad to escape alive with their children. The 
bells rung out in alarm ; shrieks and other sounds of tumult arose ; 
while over all was heard the deep roar of the conflagration, wild 
and terrible as when a hurricane is devastating forests. Each instant 
the fury of the raging destroyer increased. The houses, built mostly 
of wood, flashed into flames like powder before the approaching 
conflagration, and the lurid element, surging across the streets, over- 
whelmed new tenements, tossing its fiery crests and plunging head- 
long on, like some burning and devouring ocean. 
In the meantime, reinforcements from Cambridge had arrived at 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 229 

th 5 Neck ; but the enemy's shipping had resumed the cannonade ; 
and gusts of fiery sleet drove incessantly across the narrow isthmus. 
The troops drew back. Putnam, who had hurried from the entrench- 
ments to bring up assistance, was almost beside himself at this 
hesitation. He dashed through the hurricane of balls,'and calling 
the men to follow him, re-crossed the isthmus. But they remained 
unmoved. Once more he passed the Neck. He exhorted, he im- 
plored the troops ; he even walked his horse across the isthmus ; he 
stood still, while the shot threw the earth up all around him. But 
neither his entreaties, his reproaches, nor the haughty scorn of dan- 
ger he exhibited, could move the men : a few only crossed ; and 
stung to madness by his failure, he turned and hurried passionately 
back^to the fight. 

He arrived just in season to participate in the second repulse of 
the British; for Howe, having rallied his troops, was now advancing 
again to the assault. This time the patriots waited until the enemy 
had arrived within six rods ; when they delivered a fire, even more 
murderous than the first. The British again recoiled. In vain their 
officers strove to rally them : the volleys of the excited provincials 
followed in rapid succession : and at last the whole assailing army, 
grenadiers and infantry pell-mell, rushed in disorder to their boats. 
The slaughter had been terrific. Of one company it was found that 
five, of another only fourteen had escaped. Most of the officers 
were down. It was during this assault that an incident occurred, 
that, for a moment, relieved the horrors of the fight. Among the 
enemy Putnam recognised an old friend and fellow soldier. Major 
Small, and recognised him just in time to save his life, by striking 
up a musket levelled at him. Poetical as this occurrence seems, it 
is established on the best testimony, and is, moreover, eminently 
characteristic of Putnam. 

Sir Henry Clinton, perceiving the desperate character of the fight, 
had, meantime, hastened from Boston to Howe's assistance ; and, 
with some difficulty, the troops were rallied once more, and led to 
the attack.' This time the soldiers were ordered to throw away 
their knapsacks, reserve their fire, and trust to the bayonet. Howe 
had now discovered, also, the vulnerable point of the Americans ; 
and pushing forward his artillery to the opening between the breast- 
work and redoubt, was enabled to enfilade the whole of the provin- 
cial line. He, moreover, abandoned the attack on the rail fence, 
concentrating his whole force on the redoubt. To resist these 
preparations, the Americans had not even their former means 
They were now reduced to their last extremity. Their ammunition 

u 



£30 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

was exhausted ; bayonets, they had none ; Putnam, with tears of 
mortification, had returned from his unavaihng effort to bring up 
reinforcements. Nothing was left but to retreat, or repel the enemy 
with the butts of their muskets, or with stones. Having reached 
the works, the foremost of the British attempted to scale them. A 
private mounted first. He was shot down at once with one of the 
few remaining charges of ammunition. Major Pitcairn followed him. 
" The day is ours !" he cried, waving his sword, as he leaped on the 
parapet. The words had scarcely left his lips, when he, too, fell, 
mortally wounded. General Pigot next made the attempt to enter 
the works. He was the first man who succeeded. The British 
now came pouring in on all sides. The Americans, however, still 
held out. Clubbing their muskets, they fought with desperate valor, 
or gave ground slowly and sullenly. At last Prescott ordered a 
retreat. The American right first fell back, and after it the left 
Putnam followed the retiring troops, indignant and enraged : making 
a vain eff'ort to induce them to ^and again on Bunker Hill. Find- 
ing this impossible, he remained behind to cover their retreat. 
Coming to a deserted field-piece, he dismounted, and, taking his post 
by it, seemed resolved to brave the foe alone. One man only dared 
remain with him, who was soon shot down. Putnam did not retire 
until the British bayonets were close upon him. He then followed 
the retreating troops, who fell back, in good order, across the Neck, 
and took post at Bunker Hill. 

Night fell on the scene of battle, but did not bring repose. The 
British, as if fearful of an attack from the colonists, kept up an in- 
cessant fire of shot and shells, in the direction of Cambridge. As 
the gloom deepened, the spectacle became terrifically subUme. 
Bombs crossed and re-crossed in the air, leaving fiery trails like 
comets : the thunder of cannon echoed among the hills, and shook the 
solid shores ; lights were seen flashing up and down in Boston, and 
far and wide over the neighboring country ; while, as if to crown 
this terrific day, the smouldering embers of Charlestown illuminated 
the horizon in that direction, and poured upwards thick volumes of 
smoke, which, gradually extending, blotted star after star from the 
heavens. Terrible omen of the years of war to come ! It was a 
night of alarm and vague foreboding, as the day had been of horror 
and blood. 

The moral effect of this battle, especially in England, was almost 
incredible. But the truth is, that men there had been accustomed 
to regard the inhabitants of the colonies in the same light they did 
the peasantry of the continent, as a timorous, ignorant race, poor^ 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 231 

vithout leaders, awe-struck before authority : and in this opinion 
they had been confirmed by the representations sent home from per- 
sons in authority, as well as by the statements made in Parliament 
by cowards like Grant, who remembered the colonies only as places 
where their insolence had been chastised. In consequence, when 
it was told abroad, that two or three thousand of these despised 
peasants had virtually defeated four thousand well appointed British 
troops, with a loss to the latter of nearly one-third of their number, 
astonishment and admiration took the place of contempt. Horace 
Walpole alluded to the conflict almost with glee, overlooking all 
considerations of country in sympathy for the Americans. At the 
Court of Versailles the intelligence was received with secret exulta- 
tion, and France, lifting her dishonored head, dreamed of revenge 
for the loss of Canada. 

Putnam was unquestionably the hero of Bunker Hill. Much has 
been written to dispute his claim to this high merit ; but, even ad- 
mitting all the assertions of his enemies, their facts prove nothing. 
It is not now pretended that Putnam held any authorized command 
on the field ; his real post was at Inman's Farm ; but he seems to 
have hurried, in- the restlessness of his spirit, from one place to 
another, until the battle really begun, when he flew to Breed's Hill, 
and fought on the American left. Here, as during his occasional 
presence in the preceding hours, his reputation, his energetic spirit,- 
and the fact of his being the highest oflicer in rank present, gave him 
an authority which, wherever he went, was paramount for the time. 
He seems, however, not to have interfered with Prescott, who was 
the real Commander-in-chief, and who fought on the right. But, as it 
was in consequence of Putnam's counsels that the battle was brought 
on, so, during the strife, and in the retreat, he was the presiding 
spirit of the day. Whether galloping to head-quarters for reinforce- 
ments, or assisting his men to throw up the redoubt on Bunker Hill, 
or hurrying along the line telling the provincials to reserve their 
fire, or dashing backwards and forwards over the isthmus to persuade 
the recruits to cross, or standing alone before that solitary cannon, 
in the retreat, brandishing his sword passionately against a thousand 
British bayonets, it is still Putnam whom we meet, the Achilles of 
the fight, or, to change the simile, the lurid comet of the scene, 
blazing hither and thither, wilder and wilder every moment, until 
we lose sight of everything else in watching its fiery progress. 

On the second of July, little over two weeks after the battle, Gen- 
*^ral Washington arrived at Cambridge, having been elected Com- 
mander-in-chief, by Congress, of the American array. The troops 



232 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

were now placed on the continental establishment ; and Putnam was 
one of the first four Major-Gen erals commissioned. He early acquired 
the esteem ofWashington, who,in a letter to the President of Congress, 
speaks of him, with a wonderful insight, considering their short 
acquaintance, as " a most valuable man, and fine executive officer.'* 
When it was contemplated to assault Boston, to Putnam was 
assigned the command of four thousand troops, who were to land in 
the west part of the town, and forcing their way up the Neck towards 
Roxbury, join the troops who were to enter from that direction. In 
the summer of 1776, when General Greene, just before the battle 
of Long Island, was taken sick, Washington selected Putnam to fill 
his post ; nor are the misfortunes of the day to be attributed justly 
to him, the little time intervening between his assumption of the 
command and the battle, not allowing leisure to make himself 
acquainted with the ground. A few days afterwards, on the retreat 
of the army from New York, Putnam was entrusted with the charge 
of covering the rear ; and nobly did he execute his trust, flying, from 
point to point, his horse covered with foam, to encourage the 
troops. But for him the guards would have been inevitably lost, 
and perhaps even the whole of the rear corps sacrificed. His selec- 
tion by Washington, in all such emergencies, proves how well that 
great man understood the peculiar qualities of Putnam. For chival- 
rous daring, he had no equal among the general officers, at that 
time in the American army. He reminds us forcibly of some of 
Napoleon's Marshals, Murat, Ney or MacDonald. • Terrible in 
the charge, like an avalanche, he carried everything before him ! 
When he rushed upon the foe, firm indeed was the front that could 
resist him : generally it sank, crumbling, as when the lightning 
smites the solid rock. 

During the various operations that followed on the Hudson, and 
through the melancholy retreat across the Jerseys, Putnam was at 
Washington's side, faithful and energetic, when so many wavered 
or were careless. To Putnam was delegated the command of Phila- 
delphia, in that fearful crisis, when the enemy was hourly expected 
to advance on the capital. In January, 1777, he was sent to Prince- 
ton, where he remained until spring. In May he was assigned the 
command of a separate army in the Highlands of the state of New 
York. This was an important post, for it was the season when 
Burgoyne was advancing from the Canadas. In October, Sir Henry 
Clinton proceeded up the Hudson, landing at Verplank's Point. On 
his approach Putnam retired to the high grounds in his rear. The 
next morning, concealed by the fog, a portion of the British crossed 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 833 

the Hudson to Stony Point and pushed on to Forts Montgomery 
and Clinton. Both these places were assaulted at once and fell : on 
hearing which, Putnanir evacuated Forts Independence and Consti- 
tution, retiring to Fishkill. The command of the river was now lost. 
But, in a few days, Sir Henry Clinton, hearing of Burgoyne's sur- 
render, abandoned his advantages and retired to New York. In the 
meantime, however, Putnam had received an accession of militia, 
and a detachment of five thousand men from the army of Gates, 
which raised his force to eleven thousand. Washington now ver- 
bally, through Colonel Hamilton, ordered the brigade, which Putnam 
had received from the northern army, to be sent on to himself, near 
Philadelphia; but Putnam hesitating, in consequence of not com- 
pletely apprehending the order, the Commander-in-chief wrote a 
letter expressing his dissatisfaction. This is the only instance in 
which Washington ever censured Putnam. The conduct of the latter 
was, perhaps, actuated by a desire to make an attempt on New 
York, arising from too high an opinion of its importance. Putnam 
continued in command of the Highlands, occasionally engaging in 
desultory enterprises. 

To Putnam principally belongs the merit of having selected West 
Point as the true key to the Highlands. In March, 1778, Putnam 
was relieved of his command, in consequence of having become 
unpopular with the people of New York. The fact appears to be 
that, by his interference with what he considered the peculations of 
some of the persons entrusted with the disposal of tory property, he 
awoke the enmity of a powerful and selfish party, who found a 
handle, in his acknowledged clemency towards the enemy, to defame 
and injure his character. What was then, however, in the eyes of 
faction, a fault, is now regarded as a virtue ; and it is Putnam's 
highest praise that while indomitable in the fight, he was courteous 
to the conquered. He endeavored to soften, as far as possible, 
the asperities of war. In a word, he had the tenderness of a woman, 
but the courage of a lion. 

Shortly after the battle of Monmouth, Putnam returned to the army, 
where he took command of the right wing, being now second in 
rank to the Commander-in-chief. After that battle, however, there 
was a lull in the tempest of war for nearly two years, and no oppor- 
tunity occurred where Putnam could distinguish himself in his pecu- 
liar way. It is, perhaps, to be regretted that he was absent from the 
main army in the campaign of 1777, for both at Brandy wine and Ger- 
mantown there were emergencies when his headlong valor might al- 
most have changed the day. In 1779, he was detached to Connecticut, 
30 u* 



234 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

where he was nearly surprised, at West Greenwich, by Governor 
Tryon, and only escaped, by plunging on horseback, headlong down 
a steep ascent, almost precipitous, and nearly one hundred feet high. 
The place has since been called Putnam's Leap, and occasionally 
Horse-neck Hill. This feat is, perhaps, the favorite with the public, 
of the numerous daring enterprises of Putnam's career. 

His career was now drawing to a close. Towards the end of the 
campaign of 1779, he was seized with paralysis, by which the use of 
his limbs, on one side, was temporarily lost. The complaint refusing 
to yield, unless to repose, the rest of his days was passed in compa- 
rative inaction. He survived until the 17th of May, 1790, when he 
died, after a sharp attack of inflammatory disease, aged seventy-two 
years. He retained his faculties to the last, the consolations of reli- 
gion sustaining his closing hours. The seven years of retirement 
that ensued between the peace of 1783 and his death, were passed 
in comparative prosperity ; for his' early agricultural labors had pro- 
duced him a comfortable property. He was twice married, the 
second time in 1764 ; but he was again a widower in 1777 ; and he 
continued one until his death. 

The career of Putnam is, perhaps, more familiar to the populai 
mind than that of any of the Generals of the Revolution, except 
Washington. The anecdotes told of him, and perpetuated in a thou- 
sand shapes, are innumerable ; and it is because they are so well 
known, that we have generally avoided them. They are all, how- 
ever, eminently characteristic. His self-possession as a boy when 
caught in the limb of the apple tree ; his answer to Governor Fitch, 
of Connecticut, in reference to destroying the stamped papers ; his 
stratagem at Princeton, which so happily reconciled his kindness of 
heart and his duty as a commander ; his laconic note to Sir Henry 
Clinton, in reference to hanging the spy, claimed by the royal Gene- 
ral as a British officer ; all shew his coolness in danger, his resolution 
when aroused, his inventive genius, and his stern sense of duty; 
qualities which, united to great personal daring and even greater 
tenderness of heart, made up the character of Putnam. He never 
could have become a first-rate General-in-chief, like Greene or 
Washington, for he wanted comprehensive genius; but he was bra- 
ver than even Arnold, if that were possible ; and infinitely superior 
in every moral quality. As a leader of division under Napoleon he 
would have stormed over the bloodiest fields victoriously ; and left 
his name associated, immortally, with Wagram, Leipsic, and Wa- 
terloo ! 




RICHARD MONTGOMERY 




ICHARD Montgomery, a Major-Gene- 
ral in the continental army, was born, of 
a family of standing, in the north of Ire- 
land, on the 2nd of December, 1736. He 
received his education at the college of 
Dublin, and, at the age of eighteen ob- 
tained a commission in the British army, 
the military profession suiting alike his 
own taste and his father's wishes. He 
first saw active service in America, 
whither he went in 1757. In the following year his regiment was 
at the siege of Louisburg, and on this occasion young Montgomery's 
military qualities were so conspicuous that he was promoted to a 
Lieutenancy. After the fall of that place, Montgomery's regiment, 
with five others, was despatched to join Abercrombie at Lake Cham- 

235 



236 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

plain. He remained with the army operating against Canada, until 
1760, when Montreal finally surrendered to the British arms. Ho 
next visited the West Indies, and partook in the expeditions against 
Martinico and Havana. His conduct here procured his elevation to 
the command of a company. Soon after the treaty of Versailles, 
which, in 1763, put an end to the war, he procured permission to 
visit Europe, where he remained until 1772, when he finally aban- 
doned his native country, and removed to America, with the intention 
of permanently settling there. His reasons for this resolution are 
understood to have been that, having twice been frustrated in the 
purchase of a majority, and being convinced that there was a govern- 
ment agency in both cases, he determined to quit the service, and 
throw off the country, which had thus become hostile to his interests. 
What cause there was, if any, for the enmity of the government, has 
never been made public ; but Montgomery never would admit any. 
On the contrary, that he felt himself wantonly ill-used, is evident, 
from the pertinacity with which, ever after, he declaimed against 
the oppressions of England. 

Having married Miss Livingston, a daughter of Robert R. Liv- 
ingston, he settled at Rhinebeck, in Dutchess county. New York, 
and devoted himself to agriculture. He soon acquired influence in 
the province. The disputes between Great Britain and the colonies 
v/ere, every year, becoming more alarming; and Montgomery, taking 
the part of his adopted country, was, in April, 1775, elected a mem- 
ber of the first Provincial Convention of New York. The battle of 
Lexington soon followed. The whole nation became, as it were, 
transformed into a garrison; and the din of preparing arms resound- 
ed, day and night. The general Congress proceeded to form an army, 
of which Washington was chosen Commander-in-chief, with four Ma- 
jor-Generals, and eight Brigadiers. The influence of his connexions, 
added to his reputation, procured Montgomery a commission as 
Brigadier. Though the gift was unsolicited, he would not refuse it. 
Writing to a friend, he says : " The Congress having done me the 
honor of electing me a Brigadier-General in their service, is an event 
which must put an end for a while, perhaps forever, to the quiet 
scheme of life I had prescribed for myself; for, though entirely un- 
expected and undesired by me, the will of an oppressed people, 
compelled to choose between liberty and slavery, must be obeyed." 
These were noble sentiments, and, in a few months, he sealed them 
with his blood. 

One of the first aims of Congress was to enlist Canada in the con- 
test. For this purpose an expedition against that province was 



RICHARD MONTGOMERY. 



237 



determined on, for the two-fold purpose of expelling the Enghsh, 
and inducing the Canadians to join the Americans. Two routes 
were selected for the invasion, the one hy the Sorel, the other hy the 
Kennebec. The latter was assigned to Arnold; the former to Major- 
General Schuyler. Arnold, with a thousand men, was to cross the 
wilderness of Maine, and form a junction at, or near Quebec, with 
Schuylei, who, in the meantime, with three thousand troops, was to 




ST. JOHNS, ON THE SOREL. 



act, by the other route, against Forts St. John, Chamblee and North- 
erly. With Schuyler went Montgomery as second in command. 
The first destination of the army was to have been Ticonderoga ; 
but in the capture of that place Schuyler was anticipated by Ethan 
Allen. On the 17th of August, Montgomery arrived at Ticonderoga, 
in advance of his commanding officer, and immediately began to 
make preparations for proceeding down the lake. On the 5th of 
September, General Schuyler reached the camp. The investment 
of St. Johns VNTas, at once, begun. But, on the night of the landing, 
a spy brought in such inteUigence of the strength of the enemy, as 
induced the Americans to abandon their design; and, on the 7th, the 
troops were re-conducted to their former post at the Isle-aux-Noix. 
At this point General Schuyler wrote to Congress :— " I cannot esti 
mate the obligations I he under to General Montgomery, for the 






238 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

many important services he has done, and daily does, and in which 
he hay had little assistance from me." Soon after, General Schuyler 
was compelled, hy ill-health, to return to Albany, on which the 
command of the expedition devolved on General Montgomery. 

He proved himself fully equal to the arduous task. It is now that 
we first really arrive at the military career of Montgomery, a career 
destined to be as short as it was brilliant. He had already, in his 
earlier campaigns, traversed the ground on which he was now called 
to operate ; and, having then made himself thoroughly acquainted 
with it, he was now able to act under peculiar advantages. The 
decision, sagacity, and promptitude of his character became immedi- 
ately apparent. In a short time, the whole of Canada had been 
conquered, except the single city of Quebec, then, and since, the 
Gibraltar of America. Fort Chamblee was first captured, by a 
detachment sent forward, under Majors Livingston and Brown. 
Then, General Carleton, the British Governor of Canada, approach- 
ing to raise the siege of St. Johns, was defeated. This happened at 
Longueil, on the 31st of October, as he attempted to cross the river. 
St. Johns now surrendered. Immediately advancing to Montreal, 
Montgomery captured that city on the 12th of November. Hfe had 
hoped to surprise Carleton here, but that General, receiving timely ^ 
warning, had at first flown to his fleet, and afterwards, fearing he 
:ould not force his way, had trusted himself to a small boat, and 
with mufiied oars, succeeded in passing the American batteries and 
irmed vessels in the night. 

But now, to his chagrin, Montgomery found it impossible to prose- 
cute his victorious career as lie wished, or as America expected of 
him. Most of his troops were disinclined to remain longer in the 
field. Indeed, before his late success, he had been compelled to 
pacify them by a promise, that, " Montreal in his possession, no 
further service would be exacted from them.'^ He nevertheless did 
the best he could, under these discouraging circumstances. His first 
object was to eff'ect a junction with Arnold, who, on the 19th of 
November, had crossed the St. Lawrence in safety. This was 
eff'ected on the 4th of December. His next was to pursue Carleton 
to Quebec, where that General had taken refuge ; and attempt the 
reduction of this stronghold. " I need not tell you," he wrote to a 
member of Congress, " that, till Quebec is taken, Canada is uncon- 
quered." He entertained, however, no visionary prospects of suc- 
cess. He states distinctly, in the letter just referred to, that, unless 
Congress reinforces him, the result must be exceedingly doubtful. 
There were but three ways of reducing Quebec : first, by siege ; 



RICHARD MONTGOMERY. 239 

second^ oy investment ; third, by storm. The first was impracticable, 
because, in the winter, the ground was frozen too hard to dig 
trenches ; and, before summer could arrive, an EngUsh fleet, with 
reinforcements, would be in the St. Lawrence. The second was 
impossible, in consequence of the small number of his troops : and 
if possible, would have been impolitic, because it deprived the Cana- 
dian farmers of their city market, without aftbrding a substitute ; 
and to conciliate, not irritate the Canadians, was the desire of Mont- 
gomery. The only plan, which afforded even a gleam of success, 
was the third and last, that of a storm. But that Montgomery fully 
comprehended all the difficulties of his position, and was, by no 
means, sanguine even of an assault, will appear by another extract 
from the letter already twice referred to. 

" To the storming plan," he writes, " there are fewer objections ; 
and to this we must come at last. If my force be small, Carleton's 
is not great. The extensiveness of his works, which, in case of 
investment, would favor him, will, in the other case, favor us. 
Masters of our secret, we may select a particular time and place 
for attack, and, to repel this, the garrison must be prepared at all 
times diXidi places ; a circumstance, which will impose upon it inces- 
sant watching and labor by day and by night ; which, in its undis- 
ciplined state, must breed discontents that may compel Carleton to 
capitulate, or, perhaps, to make an attempt to drive us off. In this 
last idea, there is a glimmering of hope. Wolfe's success was a 
lucky hit, or rather a series of such hits. All sober and scientific 
calculation was against him, until Montcalm, permitting his courage 
to get the better of his discretion, gave up the advantages of his 
fortress, and came out to try his strength on the plain. Carleton, 
who was Wolfe's Quartermaster-General, understands this well ; and, 
it is to be feared, will not follow the Frenchman's example." 
This prediction was verified by the result. Carleton remained in 
his fortress, on his guard against a surprise. No demonstrations of 
the Americans could induce him to abandon his covert : infle^xible 
and defying, he remained secure behind his massive walls ! 

At first, Montgomery began a bombardment, but, as he had only 
five small mortars, he soon desisted, finding them of no effect. He 
then opened a six gun battery, about seven hundred yards from the 
fortress ; but his pieces were of too small calibre. A council of war 
was now called, when the question was submitted, " shall we attempt 
the reduction of Quebec by a night attack ?" This was carried by 
a majority of one. It was then decided that the lower town should 
oe the point attacked, and that the assault should be made on the 



240 



THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 



first favorable opportunity. A night was selected, but it proved 
too clear, and then Montgomery, as if with a foreboding of his fate, 
chose the last day of the year for the enterprise. Meantime, the 
enemy, through his spies, had obtained intelligence of the intended 
assault, and held himself in readiness. The American General 
decided to make the attack on two sides of the lower town at once : 
Arnold leading one detachment, and himself another. While these 
two were thus engaged, a third division was to make a succession 
of feints against the upper town. Between three and four o'clock, 
accordingly, of the morning of the 31st of December, 1775, the 
troops were put in motion. Montgomery's division was in high 
spirits, notwithstanding they had to make their way against a 
dri\^ing tempest of snow, which almost blocked up their road. The 
route lay around the foot of the promontory, where his way was 
further impeded by huge masses of ice, which the tide had piled, 
high and jagged, between the river and the face of the precipice. 
The men were continually slipping, and suffering intensely from the 
cold. Fierce and sullen the huge St. Lawrence roared along at their 
sides, its white crests occasionally flashing through the gloom ; while 
avalanches of snow, blown from the heights overhead, came drifting 
down across the darkness. Occasionally, too, huge fire-balls, pro- 
jected by the enemy, faUing on the snow, or simmering on the river, 
flung their lurid light around. At last the promontory was passed ; 
and the first barrier appeared. Pausing a moment to restore order 
to his ranks, Montgomery dashed forward, and, in an instant, the 
work was carried. The second was just before, dimly seen through 
the faint light, guarded by a row of palisades. An instant Montgom- 
ery halted, but only for an instant : it was while his troops gathered 
around him for another rush. He pointed, with his sword, to the 
palisades ahead. His eye kindled, and his form dilated. " Men of 
New York,'' he cried, "you will not fear to follow where your 
General leads, — march on !" Pronouncing these stirring words, he 
dashed forward, followed closely by his companions. He was one 
of the first to gain the pickets, which he seized with his own hands, 
and began pulling them up, his men eagerly imitating his example, 
and everything promising a speedy and glorious victory. The road 
was here so narrow that five persons could scarcely walk abreast. 
Montgomery, pressing exultingly on, had gained a rising ground 
about thirty yards from the barrier, when, suddenly, a couple of 
cannon, which had been masked there, were discharged down the 
passage. The effect was terrific ; the Americans, crowded together 
were mowed down in heaps : the path of that hurricane of balls^ 



RICHARD MONTGOMERY. 241 

being as distinctly marked as a windfall in the forest. Montgomery, 
being foremost, was one of the first to fall: his two aids, at his 
side, followed him so instantaneously, that the bodies of all three 
rolled over together on the ice, at the side of the river. The rest of 
the assailants recoiled in dismay. The troops lost their confidence. 
Confusion and terror followed, and, in a few minutes, the Americans, 
who so lately had seemed to hold victory within their grasp, were 
totally defeated. It does not belong to this biography to follow the 
fortunes of Arnold's division, except so far as to state that it also 
was repulsed, Arnold himself receiving a severe wound in the leg, 
and Morgan, his second in command, being captured. 

The military career of Montgomery was too short to develope, to 
their full extent, the resources of his genius. He had, however, 
during his campaign of three months, exhibited great military talents : 
prudence, coolness, foresight, energy, and personal courage the most 
chivalrous. His industry was great; his vigilance sleepless. He 
combined great strength and activity in his physical organization, 
with a high intellect, and many excellent qualities of heart. He was 
afFahle and kind ; a patriot, and a gentleman. He had none of that 
vanity which disdained the advice of others ; but, when his owb 
opinions were over-ruled, cheerfully acquiesced. When he first 
assumed command of the troops they were jealous of him in the 
extreme ; but he gradually won their confidence, and at last inspired 
them with his own enthusiasm. They followed him, in that terrihle 
assault, with a valor the most heroic, and their reliance on him is 
shewn hy their consternation when he fell. Those who belonged to 
Arnold's division, and were taken prisoners, burst into tears when 
they saw his dead body, the next day. Had he lived, the result 
might have been different, though even that is problematical. As it 
was, he won a martyr's name. We do not know but that his fate 
was an enviable one. Even had he survived to become one of the most 
successful Generals of the war, his name never would have been 
regarded with the sanctity and veneration with which it is now 
worshipped. Perishing, in the arms of what seemed almost a victory, 
and after a series of brilUant and decisive successes, his death seems 
the fitting climax to a race of glory. Both England and America 
united to regret him. Eloquence pronounced his panegyric abroad ; 
patriotism wept his untimely end at home. The British minister, at 
the close of a eulogy, pronounced on him, said, " Curses on his vir- 
tues, they have undone his country." 

Montgomery perished at the early age of thirty-eight. His remains, 
at the entreaty of Lieutenant-Governor Cramat6, were allowed burial 
31 V 



242 



THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 



within the city. A plain cofEn was provided, with a silver plate or 
the lid. Forty-two years after, his remains, by a resolution of the 
state of New York, were disinterred, and conveyed to the city of 
New York, where they were deposited, with august ceremonies 
near the monument Avhich Congress had erected, in front of St. Paul's 
church, to his memory. His name has ever been cherished with 
peculiar fondness by Americans. 




--. '^"^mj^^^^^^^^;, 




ETHAN ALLEN 




-^ ,|^f THAN ALLEN, 
■^-^rz=^ ►.« ^ Brevet-Colonel in 
the Continental 
'/Line, was born in 
Litchfield, Con- 
necticut, though 
ui what year is 
not known. He 
was a man of 
strong, naturaf 
powers of mind 
but possessing lit 
tie cultivation. — 
He was, perhaps 
some wh at too seli 
confident in all 
things. His cour 
age was « bold 

even to rashness. Ambitious and determined in public life ; in pri- 
vate he was mild and placable. His manners were eccentric. He 
was frank, generous and warm-hearted ; in rehgious matters he was 
a skeptic. We introduce him into this series of biographies on 
accouM of his capture of Ticonderoga, and the sufferings he endured 
Avhen subsequently a prisoner in the hands of the British. 

At an early period of his career, Allen removed from Connecticut 
and settled within the borders of the present state of Vermont, on 
what were called the New Hampshire grants. At that time, tht^ 

243 



244 tHE HEROES 01* THE REVOLUTION. 

boundaries between the different provinces were not clearly defined, 
and both New York and New Hampshire claimed the territory 
between the Connecticut river and Lake Champlain. The Governor 
of the latter state even proceeded so far as to grant patents for tracts 
of land, on which many individuals were induced to settle, among 
whom were Ethan Allen, his brother, and other Connecticut yeomen. 
In course of time, under the labor of these pioneers, the forest disap- 
peared, and in its place rose flourishing farms and thriving villages. 
About this period New York put in her claim for the territory, and. 
in 1764, procured a decree of the King in council in favor of her 
right. But when the settlers, or as they now called themselves, the 
Green Mountain Boys, found the Surveyors of New York running lines 
over the lands they had so long regarded as their own, and heard 
that they were expected to pay a second time for their farms, a spirit 
of the most determined resistance to this practical injustice was aroused 
The result was a controversy between the settlers and the govern- 
ment of New York, which raged with great bitterness up to the period 
of the Revolution, and was only adjusted, as we shall see, with great 
difficulty, even after that event had achieved their common indepen- 
dence, the dispute even threatening, at one time, to throw Vermont 
into the arms of Great Britain. 

It was in this controversy, and before the war of the Revolution, 
that Ethan Allen first rose to eminence as a public character. By 
general consent he became the head and directer of the disaffected 
settlers, and was given the command of a body of troops raised by 
them, to resist the aggressions of New York. 

When the members of the Connecticut Legislature, immediately 
after the battle of Lexington, conceived the capture of Ticonderoga, 
he was suggested to them as a suitable person to command the 
expedition. The self-constituted committee had proceeded from 
Hartford to Bennington, raising volunteers as they went along ; and 
at the latter place they held a council of war, in which Allen was 
forn^lly appointed the leader of the projected enterprise. Just as 
the troops were about to set forward, Arnold arrived from Massa- 
chusetts, having been commissioned by the Committee of Safety oi 
that colony to seize Ticonderoga, though without any knowledge oi 
the proposed expedition of Allen. Arnold, however, brought no 
men with him ; and hence, in the end, though not until he had made 
considerable difficulty, consented to waive his commission and serve 
under Allen as a volunteer. 

The main body, consisting of one hundred and forty persons, now 
pushed forward, and, arriving on the shore of the Lake opposite 



ETHAN ALLEN. 245 

Ticonderoga, proceeded immediately to cross. This was in the night, 
and but eighty-three had crossed when the dawn broke. Resolving 
not to wait for the remainder of his force, Allen drew up his men in 
three ranks, made them a short address, and, placing himself at their 
head, led them silently but with rapid steps, up the heights on which 
the fortress stood. As he reached the gate, with Arnold at his side, 
a sentinel snapped his musket at them and then hastily retreated to 
the shelter of a covering. Another sentinel made a thrust at one of 
the officers, on which Allen cut the soldier across the head with his 
sword, when the man threw down his gun and begged for quarter. 
The assailants now rushed on and gaining the parade between the 
barracks, gave three hearty cheers in token of their victory. Having 
done this, they remained with ready arms, while Allen advanced to 
the door of the Commandant's apartment, which was approached by 
a stairs attached to the outside of the barracks, and, knocking loudly, 
called for the Captain to appear, or the whole garrison should be 
sacrificed. DeLaplace startled from sleep thus rudely, arose and 
opened the door in bewilderment, when the form of Allen appeared 
with a drawn sword, and his voice was heard sternly demanding an 
instant surrender. "By what authority?" asked DeLaplace, won- 
dering with whom Great Britain, unknown to himself, was at war. 
" In the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress," 
exclaimed Allen. The Governor attempted to expostulate, but Allen 
raised his weapon over his head, and seeing no alternative, DeLa- 
place gave up his sword and ordered the garrison to parade without 
arms. The principal advantage of this capture was the possession 
of one hundred and twenty pieces of cannon, besides numerous 
swivels, mortars, small arms and stores. The number of prisoners 
was one Captain, one Lieutenant, and forty-eight subalterns and 
privates. During the day the remainder of Allen's main body 
arrived, and on the morrow he was still further reinforced, so 
that his troops, which, in the assault, had numbered, as we have seen, 
but eighty-three, two days after, rose to two hundred and twenty-six. 
The capture of Crown Point followed. A combined .and and 
naval attack was then projected against St. Johns, in which Allen 
led the land, and Arnold the naval forces. The latter arrived 
first at his destination, and captured a King's sloop armed with two 
brass six pounders, besides taking twenty men prisoners ; but, hear- 
ing of the approach of reinforcements, he thought it advisable to 
retreat. On his return, about fifteen miles from St. Johns, he met 
Allen, who, notwithstanding Arnold's report, determined to proceed. 
The consequence of this rashness was that the enemy attacked him 

V* 



246 



THE HEROES OP THE REVOLTTTION. 



the next morning with two hundred men and defeating him with the 
loss of three prisoners, compelled him to retire hastily to Ticonde- 
roga. Allen now took command of this latter fortress, while Arnold 
became Governor of Crown Point. Meantime, notice of these pro- 
ceedings having been sent to the Continental Congress, that body 
had requested Gov. Trumbull, of Connecticut, to despatch a body of 
troops to Lake Champlain sufficient to defend these important acqui- 
sitions ; and, accordingly, a thousand men having been deputed for 
that purpose, under command of Col. Hinman, Allen, on their 
arrival, resigned the post into their hands. The capture of Ticonde- 
roga was one of the boldest affairs of the war, and was regarded 
abroad as even more brilliant than it really was ; for the place had 
played so important a part in former contests, and was thought to be 
so impregnable, that men could not credit how it could be taken by 
eighty raw volunteers. 

Col. Allen now visited Philadelphia, in order to procure pay 
for the soldiers who had served under him, and to solicit authority 
to raise a regiment m the New Hampshire grants. Congress voted 
to allow the men and officers engaged in the enterprise against Ticon- 
deroga and Crown Point the same pay as was received by officers 
and privates in the American army; but the question of raising a 
regiment they referred to the Provincial Congress of New York, in 
order that no controversy might arise about jurisdiction at a time 
when unanimity was so desirable. To the Congress of New York 
accordingly, Allen proceeded; and that body promptly passed a 
resolution for raising a regiment of Green Mountain Boys. Of this 
regiment Seth Warner, the friend and Lieutenant of Allen, was 
chosen Lieutenant-Colonel. 

Allen now joined the northern army under Gen. Schuyler, as a 
volunteer. The invasion of Canada had been originally proposed by 
himself, in a letter written from Crown Point on the 2nd of the pre- 
ceding June ; and though the project had then been overlooked, he 
had now the gratification of seeing it carried into effect by the Con- 
tinental Congress. With an address to the Canadians, Allen was 
despatched into Canada, where his mission met with considerable 
success. Gen. Montgomery having succeeded Schuyler about the 
time of Allen's return, despatched the latter a second time into Can- 
ada, for the purpose of raising as many of the inhabitants as he 
could, to take arms and unite with the Americans. He soon suc- 
ceeded in collecting about three hundred Canadians, and wrote to 
Montgomery that, with a little exertion, he could obtain a thousand. 
Had he now returned to his General, with these recruits, the whole 



ETHAN ALLEN. 247 

fate of the expedition might have been altered ; but, in an evil hour, 
he met Major Brown, who commanded an advance party of Ameri- 
cans and Canadians, and the latter proposed that they should unite 
their forces and attempt to surprise Montreal. The duty of Allen 
was plain ; it was to resist the temptation, and return to Montgom- 
ery, who, busily engaged in besieging St. Johns, needed his assist- 
ance. But Allen had been too long accustomed to acting without a 
superior, to pay much regard to the requirements of discipline. 
Allured by the prospect of so great a prize, he determined to rist 
the enterprise. As might have been foreseen it failed. Allen, with 
eighty Canadians and thirty Americans, crossed the river below the 
town before dawn ; but Major Brown, who was to have landed 
above, failed to arrive in consequence of the high winds and waves. 
It was now too late for Allen to retreat, as his canoes could carry 
but a third of his force at a time. With the break of day the enemy 
became alarmed, and soon a body of forty regulars, with two hun- 
dred Canadians, besides a few Indians, made their appearance. All 
his men now deserted except about thirty-eight, on which he agreed 
to surrender if promised honorable terms. Thus ended this Quixotic 
enterprise ! 

Now ensued a series of personal sufferings, visited on Allen by 
the British authorities, which will ever remain a disgrace on the Brit- 
ish name. All parties, from lowest to highest, should share in this 
obloquy ; for the ill-treatment begun at Montreal, was persevered in 
when Allen went to England ; it was a matter of public notoriety, 
the Prime Minister being as cognizant of it as the meanest subaltern 
who tyrannized over the unfortunate captive. We shall follow 
AUen^s sufferings, in detail, through the two years and a half of his 
imprisonment. On being carried into Montreal, he was threatened 
by Gen. Prescott with a halter at Tyburn ; and afterwards sent on 
board the Gaspee man-of-war, where he was hand-cuffed, and his 
ankles put in shackles, to which a bar of iron eight feet long was 
fastened. He was then thrust into the lowest part of the ship, where 
a common sailor's chest was alike his bed and seat. Here he re- 
mained five weeks. He was afterwards transferred to Quebec and 
placed on board another vessel, where, for a few days, he enjoyed a 
respite from his sufferings ; the Captain, a Mr. Littlejohn, ordering 
his irons to be taken off, and giving him a seat at his own table. On 
the approach of the American army, Allen was put on board 
■ a vessel of war, and sent, with other prisoners, to England. His 
nand-cuffs were now replaced, and, with thirty-three others, he was 
confined ir. a single apartment, which they were not allowed to leave 



248 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

during a passage that extended to nearly forty days. Barbarities Uke 
these were then known only to the slave trade. 

It was a happy hour for the poor captives when the vessel that 
bore them anchored in the harbor of Falmouth. Now, for the first 
time since they started, were they permitted to come on deck and 
breathe the fresh air. The prisoners, on being landed, experienced 
better treatment, though still such as would have been deemed harsh 
to any who had suffered less. They were now lodged in an airy apart- 
ment, and indulged with beds of straw. But their irons were still 
kept on, Allen himself was distinguished by several marks of pecu- 
liar favor, chiefly owing to his rank and to the renown of the capture 
of Ticonderoga. Still, however, threats that he would yet be exe- 
cuted as a traitor, were frequently made to him. In this emergency 
he asked leave to write a letter to the Continental Congress ; when he 
took occasion to depict the sufferings he had endured and to advise 
retaliation. A missive of this character, as he had expected, was 
sent to Lord North, instead of to the American Congress ; and in the 
end more lenient measures were resolved on by the ministry, and 
the prisoners, instead of being tried for treason, ordered back to their 
own country. 

During this compulsory stay in England, Allen had been visited 
by many persons. His appearance, at this time, was peculiar even 
to grotesqueness. When captured, he had on a Canadian dress, 
consisting of a jacket of fawn skin, vest and breeches of sagathy, 
worsted stockings, shoes, and a r.ed worsted cap ; and this dress, 
from poverty, he still wore. On the return voyage, however, the 
vessel stopped at Cork, where the humanity of the inhabitants fur- 
nished him with a suit of clothes and some money. The captain of 
the ship, on seeing Allen, for the first time, come on deck, ordered 
him to leave it, saying it was a place only " for gentlemen to walk.'' 
Two days after, however, having shaved and arranged his dress, 
Allen boldly appeared again on deck, when the captain demanded 
harshly if he had forgotten the order. Allen said that he had heard 
such an order, but as* he had also heard that " the deck was the 
place for gentlemen to walk," he, being a gentleman, claimed the 
privilege of his rank. The captain, uttering an oath, cautioned the 
prisoner never to be seen on the same side of the ship as himself, 
and turned on his heel ; and Allen took good care afterwards to 
avoid his tyrant, when availing himself of this tacit privilege to 
breathe the fresh air. 

The prisoners were first carried to New York, and afterwards to 
Halifax, where, confined in a sloop, with scanty provisions, the 



ETHAN ALLEN. 24d 

scurvy broke out among them. In vain Allen wrote to his tyrants, 
soliciting medical aid : nothing moved their obdurate hearts. Finally 
the guard was bribed to carry a letter to the Governor. This pro- 
cured some amelioration in their condition, as it obtained for them 
the assistance of a surgeon, and was the means of changing their 
quarters from the prison-ship to the town-jail. Congress, as well as 
the Legislature of his native state, Connecticut, were now actively 
engaged in negotiating the exchange of Allen and his unfortunate 
companions. The prisoners were put on board the Lark frigate and 
carried to New York. On this passage Allen was honorably treated 
by the captain, a kindness which he rewarded by preventing a con- 
spiracy among the prisoners to seize the ship. At New York he 
was admitted to his parole, but his heart was pained by seeing the 
sufferings of his fellow countrymen, captured at Fort Washington 
and Long Island, who were huddled into the churches, and other 
places, and left to perish there of hunger, cold and disease, an indeli- 
ble stain on the memory of Sir Wilham Howe. On one occasion 
Allen himself, on a false charge of infringing his parole, was cast 
into prison, and denied food for three days. Finally, on the 3rd of 
May, 1778, he was exchanged for Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell, and 
found himself, after his incredible sufferings, once more free. 

His first object was to repair to the camp at Valley Forge, in order 
in person to thank General Washington for the efforts of the Com- 
mander-in-chief to procure his liberation. He then turned his steps 
homeward, to his darUng Vermont, where his return was hailed a5f 
a season of festivity. Congress, meantime, not unmindful of his suf 
ferings and services, granted him a brevet commission of Colonel in 
the continental army ; and, moreover, resolved that he should be 
entitled to the pay and other emoluments of a Lieutenant-Colonel, 
for the period he was a prisoner. Allen, however, did not serve, at 
any time after this, against the common enemy ; for the feud between 
his state and New York had again broken out, and his time was 
now monopolized by this controversy. 

During his absence, the inhabitants of the New Hampshire grants 
had formed a constitution, and declared their territory an indepen- 
dent state, under the name of Vermont. There were still many 
persons in New York who regarded this as robbing that common- 
wealth of part of her land ; and who resisted it accordingly. Allen 
returned at an opportune Qioment. The Governor of New York 
had just issued a proclamation, containing overtures for a peaceable 
adjustment of the controversy. His proposition v/as that the patents 
granted by New Hampshire should be confirmed, but that the pur 
32 



850 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

chasers should continue to pay a quit rent as under the old colonial 
system, and that the unsettled lands were to be the property of New 
York. Through the influence of Allen, these terms were rejected. 
In his opinion any proposal which did not imply the entire indepen- 
dence of Vermont as a state was to be refused. 

The controversy continued for several years, and, at one time, 
reached so threatening a point that the British ministry believed 
Vermont might be induced to return to her allegiance. Informal 
overtures to this end were even made to Allen, who, on his part, 
allowed the enemy to continue deceived, and thus secured for Ver- 
mont the benefits of a neutrality during the remainder of the war. 
The coldness with which Congress had regarded the claims of Ver- 
mont, was alleged by Allen as his defence for this conduct. He and 
his friends looked on Vermont as an independent commonwealth, 
having the right to make war or peace without consulting the con- 
federated states. Her position was, indeed, that of a nation in -rebel- 
lion against the united colonies, which were themselves in rebellion 
against the parent state — a wheel within a wheel ! We leave it for 
casuists to assail or defend his conduct. 

When the insurrection in Massachusetts broke out, Allen was soli- 
cited by Shays and his associates, to take command of the revolters; 
but this proposition he indignantly rejected; at the same time he 
wrote a letter to the Governor of Massachusetts, in which he assured 
that officer that none of the insurgents should be abetted by Vermont. 
The purity of his patriotism was proved by another circumstance. 
Learning that one of his brothers had become a tory, he petitioned 
the court to confiscate the offender's property. 

Allen died by a stroke of apoplexy, at Burlington, Vermont, in 
1789. He had been twice married. His second wife, and his chil- 
dren by both wives, survived him. 




WILLIAM MOULTRIE 




ILLIAM Moultrie, a Major- 
General in the continental 
army, was born at Charles- 
ton, South Carolina, in 1731. 
He was early distinguished 
for coolness and intrepidity 
in danger. The Indian wars 
were, at that period, the ordi- 
nary school of the young American soldier ; and Moultrie first " en- 
tered the field of Mars," to use his own expression, in the campaign 
of 1761, where he commanded a company, of which Marion was 
Lieutenant. This was the year when the Indian settlements, beyond 
the pass of Etchoee, were laid waste with fire and sword. For 
thirty days the ravages continued: the towns were given to the 
flames, the corn-fields made desolate, and the heart of that once 
proud nation of aborigines broken forever. On his return from this 

251 



252 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLTJTION. 

expedition, Moultrie retired into private life ; but when the tempest 
of the Revolution began to gather, he offered hiniself t) the service 
of his country. The citizens of South Carolina, entering at once, 
and enthusiastically, into the measures of resistance proposed by 
Massachusetts and the other colonies, summoned a provincial Con- 
gress, which met at Charleston, on the 11th of January, 1775. In 
this body the boldest sentiments were encouraged, and the associa- 
tion recommended by the general Congress, warmly subscribed. 
Moultrie was an active member of the provincial Congress. 

When the news of the battle of Lexington reached Charleston, 
South Carolina rose in commotion. The provincial Congress, which 
had adjourned, immediately re-assembled. Two regiments of foot 
and one of horse were ordered to be raised ; measures were taken 
to procure powder ; and every preparation made for the war which 
was now seen to be inevitable. Moultrie was offered, and accepted 
the command of one t)f the regiments of foot. He soon proved him- 
self a prudent, but active officer. The intrigues of the tories, espe- 
cially in the district of Ninety-six, where they assumed arms in large 
numbers, first gave active employment to the patriots of South Caro- 
lina; but a danger, of a more vital character, speedily threatened 
them. This was the invasion of their state by the British, a project 
which had long been entertained by the royal Generals. To provide 
in time for defeating it. Congress had despatched General Lee to the 
south. It was not until the beginning of the summer of 1776, how- 
ever, that the enemy's armament set sail from New York, consisting . 
of a large fleet of transports with a competent land force, commanded 
by Sir Henry Clinton, and attended by a squadron of nine men-of- 
war, led by Sir Peter Parker. On the arrival of this expedition off 
the coast, all was terror and confusion among the South Carolinians, 
Energetic measures were at once adopted to repel the attack. 

To defend their capital the inhabitants had constructed on Sulli- 
van's Island, near the entrance of their harbor, and about four miles 
from the city, a rude fort of palmetto logs, the command of which 
was given to Col. Moultrie. Never, perhaps, was a more inartificial 
defence relied on in so great an emergency. The form of the fort 
was square, with a bastion at each angle ; it was built of logs laid 
on each other in parallel rows, at a distance of sixteen feet apart. Other 
logs were bound together at frequent intervals with timber dove- 
tailed and bolted into them. The spaces between were filled up with 
sand. The merlons were faced with palmetto logs. All the indus- 
try of the Carolinians, however, was insufficient to complete the fort 
in time ; and when the British fleet entered the harbor, the defences 



WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 353 

consisted of little more than a single front facing the water. The 
force of Col. Moultrie was four hundred and thirty-five, rank and 
file ; his armament consisted of nine French twenty-sixes, fourteen 
English eighteens, nine twelve and seven nine pounders. > Finding 
the fort could be easily enfiladed, Gen. Lee advised abandoning it ; 
but the Governor refused, telling Moultrie to keep his post, until he 
himself ordered the retreat. Moultrie, on his part required no urging 
to adopt this more heroic course. A spectator happening to say, that 
in half an hour the enemy would knock the fort to pieces, "Then," 
replied Moultrie, undauntedly, " we will lie behind the ruins, and 
prevent their men from landing." Lee with many fears left the Island, 
and repairing to his camp on the main land, prepared to cover the 
retreat of the garrison, which he considered inevitable. 

There was, perhaps, more of bravado than of sound military pol- 
icy in attacking this fort at all, since the English fleet might easily 
have run the gauntlet of it, as was done a few years later. But 
Fort Moultrie was destined to be to the navy what Bunker Hill had 
been to the Army. It was in consequence of excess of scorn for 
his enemy, that Sir Peter Parker, disdaining to leave such a place in 
his rear, resolved on its total demolition. He had no doubt but that, 
in an hour at the utmost, he could make the unpractised Carolinians 
glad to sue for peace on any terms. Accordingly, on the 2Sth of 
June, 1776, he entered the harbor, in all the parade of his proud 
ships, nine in number, and drawing up abreast the fort, let go his 
anchors with springs upon the cables, and began a furious cannonade. 
Meanwhile, terror reigned in Charleston. As the sound of the first 
gun went booming over the waters towards the town, the trembling 
inhabitants, who had been crowding the wharves and lining the 
house-tops since early morning, turned pale with ominous forebodings. 
Nor were the feehngs of the defenders of the fort less anxious. Look- 
ing off, over the low Island intervening between them and the city, 
they could see the gleaming walls of their distant homes; and their 
imaginations conjured up the picture of those dear habitations given 
to the flames, as another Charlestown had been, twelve months before, 
and the still dearer wives that inhabited them, cast houseless upon 
the world. As they turned from this spectacle, and watched the 
haughty approach of the enemy, his every motion betraying confi 
dence of success, their eyes kindled with indignant feelings, and they 
silently swore to make good the words of their leader, by perishing, 
if need were, under the ruins of the fort. 

One by one the British men-of-war gallantly approached the 
stations assigned them. Sir Peter Parker, in the Bristol, leading the 

w 



i 

! 



854 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

van. The Experiment, another fifty gun ship, came close after, 
and both dropped their anchors in succession directly abreast the fort. 
The other frigates followed, and ranged themselves as supports. The 
remaining vessels were still working up to their stations, when the 
first gun v/as fired, and instantly the battle begun. The quantity of 
powder on the Island being small, five thousand pounds in all, 
there was an absolute necessity that there should be no waste. Ac 
cordingly, the field officers pointed the pieces in person, and the 
words "look to the Commodore — look to the two-deckers !" passed 
along the line. The conflict soon grew terrific. The balls whistled 
above the heads of the defenders, and bombs fell thick and fast 
within the fort ; yet, in the excitement of the moment, the men seem- 
ed totally unconscious of danger. The fight deepened. Occa- 
sionally a shot from one of the cannon, striking the hull of the flag 
ship, would send the splinters flying into the air ; and then a loud 
huzza would burst from those who worked the guns ; but, except in 
instances like this, the patriots fought in stern and solemn silence. 
Once, when it was seen that the three men-of-war working up to 
join the conflict, had become entangled among the shoals, and would 
not probably be enabled to join in the fight, a general and prolonged 
cheer went down the line, and taken up a second and third time, 
rose, like an exulting strain, over all the uproar of the battle. 

The incessant cannonade soon darkened the prospect, the smoke 
lying packed along the surface of the water ; while a thousand fiery 
tongues, as from some hundred headed monster, shot out inces- 
santly, and licking the air a moment, were gone forever. Occasionally 
this thick, cloudy veil concealed all but the spars of the enemy from 
sight, and then the tall masts seemed rising, by some potent spell, 
out of nothing ; occasionally the terrific explosions would rend and 
tear asunder the curtain, and, for an instant, the black hulls would 
loom OLit threateningly, and then disappear. The roar of three hun- 
dred guns shook the Island and fort unremittingly : the water that 
washed the sand beach, gasped with a quick ebb and flow, under 
the concussions. Higher and higher, the sun mounted to the zenith, 
yet still the battle continued. The heat was excessive ; but casting 
aside their coats, the men breathed themselves a miimte, and return- 
ed to the fight. The city was now hidden from view, by low banks 
of smoke, which extending right and left along the water, bounded 
the horizon on two sides. Yet the defenders of the fort still thought 
of the thousands anxiously watching them from Charleston, or of the 
wives and mothers, trembling at every explosion for the lives of 
those they loved. One of their numbet soon fell mortally wounded 



WILLIAM MOULTRIE. 256 

Gasping and in agony, he was carried by. " Do not give up," he 
had still strength to say ; " you are fighting for liberty and country." 
Who that heard these words could think of surrender ? 

Noon came and went, and still the awful struggle continued. 
Suddenly a shot struck the flag-staff, and the banner, which had 
waved in that lurid atmosphere all day, proudly overhead, fell on 
the beach outside the fort. For a moment there was a pause, as if 
at a presage of disaster. Then a soldier, the brave and immortal 
Serjeant Jasper, sprang upon the parapet, leaped down to the beach, 
and passing along nearly the whole front of the fort, exposed to the 
full fire of the enemy, deliberately cut off" the bunting from the shat- 
tered mast, called for a sponge staff* to be thrown to him, and tying 
the flag to this, clambered up the ramparts and replaced the banner, 
amid the cheers of his companions. Far away, in the city, there 
had been those who saw, through their telescopes, the fall of that 
flag ; and, as the news went around, a chill of horror froze every 
heart, for it was thought the place had surrendered. But soon a 
slight staff" was seen uplifted at one of the angles : it bore, clinging 
to it, something like bunting : the breeze struck it, the bundle 
unrolled, it was the flag of America ! Hope danced again through 
every heart. Some burst into tears ; some laughed hysterically ; 
some gave way to outcries and huzzas of delight. As the hours 
wore on, however, new causes for apprehension arose. The fire of 
the fort was perceived to slacken. Could it be that its brave defend- 
ers, after such a glorious struggle, had at last given in ? Again 
hope yielded to doubt, almost to despair ; the feeling was the more 
terrible from the late exhilaration. Already, in fancy, the enemy 
was seen approaching the city. Wives began to tremble for their 
husbands, who had rendered themselves conspicuous on the patriotic 
side : mothers clasped their infants, whose sires, they thought, had 
perished in the fight, and, in silent agony, prayed God to protect' the 
fatherless. Thus passed an hour of the wildest anxiety and alarm. 
At last intelligence was brought that the fire had slackened only for 
want of powder ; that a supply had since been secured ; and that 
the cannonade would soon be resumed. In a short time these pre- 
dictions were verified,* and the air again shook with distant concus- 
sions. Thus the afternoon passed. Sunset approached, yet the 
fight raged. Slowly the great luminary of day sank in the west, and 
twihght, cold and calm, threw its shadows across the waters ; yet 
still the fight raged. The stai^ came out, twinkling sharp and clear, 
in that half tropical sky : yet still the fight raged. The hum cf the 
day had now subsided, and the cicada was heard trilling it? note 



856 THE HEROES OF THE KEVOLUTIOI? 

on the night air : all was quiet and serene in the city : yet still tlie 
fight raged. The dull, heavy reports of the distant artillery boomed 
louder across the water, and the dark curtain of smoke that nearly 
concealed the ships and fort, grew luminous with incessant flashes. 
The fight still raged. At last the frequency of the discharges per- 
ceptibly lessened, and gradually, towards ten o'clock, ceased alto- 
gether. The ships of the enemy were now seen moving from their 
position, and making their way slowly, as if crippled and weary, out 
of the harbor : and, at that sight, most of the population, losing their 
anxiety, returned to their dwellings; though crowds still lined 
some of the wharves, waiting for authentic messengers from the 
fight, and peering into the gathering gloom, to detect the approach 
of the first boat. 

The loss of the enemy had been excessive. The flag-ship, the 
Bristol, had forty-four men killed, and thirty wounded : the Experi- 
ment, another fifty gun ship, fifty-seven killed, and thirty wounded. 
All the ships were much cut up : the two deckers terribly so ; and 
one of the frigates, the Acteon, running aground, was burnt. The 
last shot fired from the fort entered the cabin of Sir Peter Parker's 
ship, cut down two young ofiicers who were drinking there, and 
passing forwards, killed three sailors on the main deck, then passed 
out, and buried itself in the sea. The loss on the American side 
was inconsiderable : twelve killed, and about twenty-five wounded. 
During the battle, the earnest zeal of the men was occasionally 
relieved by moments of merriment. A coat, having been thrown 
on the top of one of the merlons, was caught by a shot, and lodged 
in a tree, at which sight a general peal of laughter was heard. 
Moultrie sat coolly smoking during the conflict, occasionally taking 
his pipe from his mouth to issue an order. Once, while the 
battle was in progress. General Lee came off" to the island, but, 
finding everything so prosperous, soon returned to his camp. The 
supply of powder which was obtained during the conflict, and which 
enabled the patriots to resume the fight, was procured, part from a 
schooner in the harbor, part from the city. Unbounded enthusiasm, 
on the side of the inhabitants, hailed the gallant defenders of the 
fort after the victory : Moultrie received the thanks of Congress, was 
elevated to the rank of Brigadier-General, and was honored by 
having the post he had defended called after his name. A stand of 
colors was presented, by Mrs. Elliott, to the men of his regiment, 
with the belief, she said, " that they would stand by them, as long 
as they could wave in the air of liberty." It was in guarding these 
colors, that the brave Serjeant Jasper, subsequently, lost hLs life. 



WILLIAM MOULTKIE. 257 

The repulse from Fort Moultrie induced the British to abandon 
their designs on South Carolina ; and, for three years, that province 
was exempt from the ravages of war. At length, in 1779, after the 
sufjcessful invasion of Georgia, the royal army turned its attention 
to the neighboring province, and General Moultrie was once more 
called into active service. The campaign that followed may be 
described in a few words. At Beaufort, in South Carolina, whither 
the enemy had advanced, Moultrie met him in a drawn battle. Lin- 
coln, finding the militia refractory, in chagrin transferred their com- 
mand to Moultrie, and, at the head of two thousand troops, advanced 
towards Augusta. Meantime, General Ashe had been defeated at 
Brier's Creek. Prevost now crossed the Savannah, and, dri\ing 
Moultrie before him, advanced, by rapid marches, on the capita] of . 
South Carolina ; the hero of this biography, powerless to check his 
victorious career, hurrying to save Charleston, as all that remained 
to be done in this extremity. Here Moultrie found every one in 
consternation. Even the surrender of the city was projected ; but 
happily, the firmness of Governor Rutledge averted this. The yeo- 
manry and citizens were aroused for the crisis, and the town placed 
in a state of defence. Prevost, advancing to the lines, was arrested 
by the American fire. He summoned the place, and received a 
defiance. The night was spent in dismal forebodings by the people 
of Charleston : only Moultrie and a few other bold spirits were cool 
and resolute.. When morning dawned, the enemy had disappeared, 
the want of artillery, and the news of Lincoln's approach, having led 
him to abandon the siege, and begin a precipitate retreat to Georgia. 
The fortunes of war had again changed : the pursuers were now the 
pursued ; and, with high spirits, Moultrie found himself in the field 
once more on the aggressive. Prevost had retired to an island in 
the vicinity of Charleston, establishing himself in a strong fort at 
Stono Ferry. Here he was assailed by Lincoln, and afterwards by 
Moultrie in galleys; both times with spirit, but without success. 
The British, finding their position growing more perilous, retreated 
along the chain of islands on the coast, until they reached Beaufort, 
and finally Savannah. Here they were followed by Lincoln, who esta- 
blished himself at Sheldon to watch his enemy. In September, the 
Count d'Estaing arrived, when the allied forces determined to storm 
Savannah. A melancholy and terrible repulse happened. Moul 
trie, having long since returned to Charleston, was spared the morti 
fication of sharing in this affair. 

Moultrie had received the commission of a Major-General, on the 
continental establishment, during the progress of this campaign, a 
33 w* 



258 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

high testimony to his military ahilities,. and proving the estimation 
in which he was held by Congress. In the succeeding year, on tho 
third invasion of South Carolina, he rendered most important ser- 
vices; although he, like his superior, Lincoln, appears to have placed 
an undue importance on the preservation of the capital. This feeling, 
however, was shared by all classes in the Carohnas ; and, perhaps, 
it would have been impossible for any General to have resisted it. 
Moultrie was particularly active in the defence of Charleston. But 
it was in vain. Sir Henry Clinton, with his overwhelming force, put 
effectual resistance out of the question, especially after the supplies, 
promised from the north, failed to arrive to assist the besieged. On 
the 12th of May, 1780, the capital of South Carolina surrendered, 
and the officers and men of the army of Lincoln became prisoners 
of war. Moultrie was one of the most unfortunate of the victims of 
this capitulation ; for he remained a prisoner, there being no officer 
to exchange for him, until the war had nearly terminated. He had 
consequently no further opportunity to distinguish himself; and was 
prevented from participating in the glorious struggle subsequently 
carried on by Marion, Lee, Sumpter and others ! Had he been free, 
judging from his past career, he would have been one of the most 
intrepid in that sanguinary strife. 

The chief characteristic of Moultrie as a military leader was his 
coolness in moments of danger. No crisis, however terrible, could 
shake his self-possession. His smoking his pipe during the cannon- 
ade at Sullivan's Island; his. easy indifference when the magazine 
in Charleston was expected to take fire and blow up the town; and 
his invariable collectedness in every emergency, where great peril 
threatened him, establish his possession of this quality and in its 
highest perfection. This was his distinguishing trait. Besides this, 
he had prudence, sagacity, and the power of attaching to himself his 
troops. ^He does not, however, appear to have enjoyed either the 
headlong bravery of Wayne, or the comprehensive intellect of 
Greene. His courage was chivalrous, but not terrible like Putnam's: 
his views just, but, not eagle-eyed like those of Washington. The 
great event of his career was the defence of Fort Sullivan : and this 
will render his name immortal ! 

His public services, after the peace of 1783, were few and com 
paratively unimportant. He was a man of warm affections, and 
generally beloved : his dependants worshipped him almost to adora 
tion. He filled the office of Governor of his native state ; and died 
at Charleston, on the 27th day of September, 1805. 




LORD STIRLING 




ILLIAM Alexander, by courtesy 
^ called Lord Stirling, a Major-Ge^ 
neral in the continental line, was 
r born in the city of New York, in 
_- the year 1726. He received as 
excellent an education as the 
country, at that time, could af- 
ford, and was early distinguish- 
ed for that mathematical ability 
which subsequently made him so 
ardent an admirer of science. — 
When the French war broke out, 
he entered the army. He acted 



as Commissary, as Aid-de-camp, and finally as Secretary to Gover- 
nor Shirley. At the close of the contest he accompanied his patron 
to England, in order to prosecute his claims to a Scotch earldom of 
which he considered himself the rightful heir; but, from the want of 

259 



)S60 ' THE HEROES OF THE REVOLtTTlOJir. 

some ink in the testimony necessary to establish his claim, failed in 
the suit. It is understood that the sums spent in this vain effort to 
secure a title, materially impaired his fortune. In America, how- 
ever, his claim was considered rightful, and he always bore the 
name of Lord Stirling in consequence. 

When the war of independence began, the ability, position and 
wealth of Lord Stirling rendered his influence of weight ; and ena- 
bled him to obtain a corresponding rank m the continental line. He 
was immediately appointed a Colonel. During the siege of Boston 
he was stationed at New York. Here he found opportunity to dis- 
play the natural boldness and gallantry of his disposition. Fitting 
out a pilot-boat and some smaller craft, and availing himself of the 
night to escape the Asia man-of-war which then lay in the har- 
bor, he put to sea and succeeded in capturing an English transport, 
laden with valuable stores for the army in Boston. 

The personal appearance of Stirling was remarkably fine. His 
face was dignified ; his figure tall but somewhat portly ; and his man- 
ners elegant, yet soldierly. As a General he was brave to rashness. 
His military abilities were of that kind, indeed, that rendered it more 
prudent to keep him under the eye of a Commander-in-chief; in this 
respect he resembled Putnam and others, who were more valuable 
as executive officers than when acting on their own responsibility. 
It was at Monmouth and Long Island that he won his chief laurels. 
At Monmouth, when the battle hung upon a thread, when Lee was 
retreating after having made his last stand, and Clinton was pouring 
down his victorious legions on Washington's left wing, he placed 
himself at the head of Lieutenant Carrington's artillery, and dashing 
at full gallop to the brow of an elevation that commanded the advanc- 
ing columns of the enemy, hastily unlimbered the guns and opened 
so terrible a fire, that the assailants wavered, and finally fell back. 
At Long Island he held command of the right wing. As he played 
a conspicuous part here, we shall describe the battle at some length. 
Brooklyn stands on a knob of land as it were, formed by the in- 
dentations of Wallabout and Gouverneur's bays, which, at the dis- 
tance of a mile and a half from the heights, approaching each other, 
reduce its width one half. Across this isthmus, the ground of which 
is elevated, a hne of defences was drawn, commanding all the ap- 
proaches from the interior, and from the northern and southern 
shores of the island. In the rear, the works were protected by bat- 
teries on Governor's Island and Red Hook, and by other batteries on 
the East river, which kept open the communication with the main 
army in New York. In front, these roads radiated from the lines. 



LORD STIRLING. 261 

like spokes from the hub of a wheel, and crossed a range of wooded 
heights, nearly four miles distant, which, to carry out the simile, 
formed the felloe. Between these heights and the lines the battle 
was fought. The two roads nearest the Narrows were defended pro- 
perly, but the upper one was left with an insufficient guard; here 
Clmton crossed undetected, and pouring down into the plain beyond, 
while his colleagues made a feint of forcing the two other passes, had 
nearly cut off tlie Americans from their lines, when happily his ap- 
proach was discovered, and a portion, after a desperate encounter^ 
succeeded in gaining their entrenchments. 

Stirling, on this fatal day, directed the right wing, which number- 
ed about two-thirds of those engaged in the battle. The Comman- 
der-in-chief outside the hues was Sullivan. Putnam, the superior of 
all, remained within the redoubts. He had been sent to supersede 
Greene, when the latter was suddenly taken ill. Putnam first went 
over to Brooklyn on Sunday, the 25th of August, 1776, and the 
battle was fought two days after ; hence the ignorance at head- 
quarters respecting the ground, and the neglect properly to fortify 
the upper pass. The general impression was that the English would 
attempt to force a passage across the hills at the lower road ; and it 
was in consequence of this that Stirling's command preponderated 
so greatly over that of Sullivan. 

Having given this general outline of the battle, let us proceed, to 
speak more in detail. The two armies were separated by a range 
of wooded hills, which were impassable for artillery and cavalry, 
except by the three principal roads. The chief one of these ran, in 
nearly a straight line from Flatbush to the American entrenchments, 
four miles distant. Another road, conducting northwardly of this, 
now called the Clove road, led through a second pass to Bedford vil- 
lage in the plain. A more circuitous route took its way through a 
pass on the north, and joined the road from Jamaica to Bedford. 
There was another pass, close to the Narrows, running from New 
Utrecht over the hills into the plain. All these roads met in the plain 
about half a mile without the lines. The latter pass, as we have 
said, was defended by Stirling, with much the largest portion of the 
American army. The pass, leading across from Flatbush, was held 
by Sullivan, with a strong force and a redoubt. At that on the Clove 
road, were two regiments under Colonels Williams and Miles. The 
pass on the .Jamaica road was guarded only by a few light 
volunteers. It was by this that Clinton crossed, his sagacity foresee- 
ing that the American defences would be weaker here than at either 
of the other points. 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

The British landed at the ferry near the Narrows, on the 22nd, and 
marched through Utrecht and Gravesend to Flatbush, back of which 
last place they established their principal encampment, near the vil- 
lage of Flatbush. Their centre, composed of Hessians, lay in front 
at Flatbush, in command of General De Heister ; while the left 
wing, under General Grant, extended to the place of landing. The 
army remained inactive until the evening of the 26th, when it being 
found that the Americans had guarded all the most westerly 
passes, Clinton moved in the direction of the Jamaica pass, his scouts 
having brought him intelligence, as he expected, of the small force 
in that quarter. He reached it unperceived before day -break, and 
cautiously pushing forward, surprised and captured the party sta- 
tioned there. Having thus secured his enemy from receiving notice 
of his approach, he suffered his men to repose for awhile from the 
fatigues of their march. The whole division accordingly rested on 
their arms. It was a clear, starlight night, and the country in the 
plain below was just visible through the hazy light. The men strained 
their eyes across it in search of the distant heights of Brooklyn and 
the spiT.es of New York beyond, and continued watching for that 
haven of their hopes until the stars paled, the dawn approached, and 
the morning sunbeams shot along the woodland and cultivated fields 
below. Then the order to march was given, and the troops san- 
guine of victory, crossed the heights and poured down into the plain. 

Meanwhile, immediately after day -light, De Heister began a furi- 
ous cannonade on Sullivan, in order to direct the attention of the 
American General from what was passing on his extreme left. De 
Heister did not, however, advance from Flatbush until he had 
received intelligence of Clinton's successful passage ; but when, at 
half past eight, he learned that his colleague had reached Bedford 
and thrown forward a detachment in Sullivan's rear, he charged the 
American redoubt in earnest. The dark masses of De Heister were 
just beginning to unwind themselves, like some glittering anaconda, 
from the village of Flatbush, when a scout dashed, all in a foam, into 
the camp of Sullivan, and announced that Clinton was in the rear. 
In this terrible crisis, surprised, circumvented, defeated already, the 
presence of mind of Sullivan did not desert him. He saw that 
but one hope remained to him, that of gaining the lines at Brooklyn 
before his enemy. He accordingly ordered the troops to fall back, 
through the woods, by regiments. In so doing they encountered the 
British front. At the same instant", De Heister, advancing from Flat- 
bush, made a furious assault on that side. The coolness of Sullivan 
unfortunately was not shared by his men. Struck with panic at hear- 



LORD STIRLING. 263 

iiig the firing in their rear, and thinking only of making good their 
escape, they could not be induced even to wait the first onset of the 
Hessians. In vain Sullivan rode among them, appealing to their 
patriotism; in vain he reminded them of Lexington and Bunker 
Hill ; in vain he rushed into the most exposed situations to stimulate 
them by his personal ex:ample ; all discipline was lost, all decency 
disregarded ; terrified they turned and fled, the Hessians thundering 
in pursuit, and the ■ troops of Clinton on their flank, hastening, with 
loud cheers, to cut off" the fugitives. 

As a contrast to this shameful conduct, the little band of men in 
the pass on the Clove road, behaved with a heroism that should ren- 
der their names immortal. The force, at this point, was composed 
of a regiment under Colonel Williams, and another of Pennsylvania 
riflemen under Colonel Miles. As soon as De Heister had put the 
personal command of Sullivan to the rout, he detached a portion ci 
his Hessians against these two regiments. Overpowered by num- 
bers, after a short, but gallant resistance, tlie Pennsylvanians were- 
driven back into the woods. At the same time, Clinton, moving to 
intercept those in retreat along the road from Flatbush, arrived in the 
rear of these brave men. Now ensued one of those desperate 
struggles, in which courage seeks to make up for want of numbers. 
Hemmed in on front and rear ; now driven by the British on the 
Hessians, and now on the Hessians by the British, that little band 
like a lion turning every way to meet its hunters, charged incessantly 
on the. foe. Hurled back from the assault , they returned more furi- 
ous to the onset. Long and heroically they thus struggled. During 
the contest they were joined by the remnant of Sullivan's command, 
with himself at its head, and their efforts now grew more desper- 
ate than ever. Some forced their passage through the solid ranks 
of the enemy, and, fighting all the way, regained the lines at Brook- 
lyn. Some plunging into the woods, concealed themselves there 
until the action was over, and thus escaped. But the greater num- 
ber either died in the unavailing struggle, or exhausted by two hours 
of severe fighting, surrendered, at last, with their General. 

The battle was now over in this quarter. But it still raged 
towards the American right where Stirling commanded, and raged, 
if possible, with a fury greater than even around this heroic band! 
Long before either De Heister or Clinton had crossed the wooded 
heights, at so early an hour indeed as midnight. General Grant, with 
the design of directing attention .from Clinton's manoeuvre, advanced 
along the coast, with the left wing, driving in the light out-lying par- 
ties of the Americans. As this was the point where the main assault 



264 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

was expected, these parties were quite abundant, and intelligence of 
the advance was immediately communicated to Putnam. This was 
at three o'clock in the morning. Putnam instantly detached Stir- 
ling, with strong reinforcements, to repel this attack. Stirling reached 
the summit of the hill just before sunrise, his steps being hastened by 
the sounds of skirmishing in front. The first object that met his 
sight, as the beams of the morning sun illuminated the valley below, 
was the retiring troops who had been stationed' to guard the pass, 
and who were now slowly falling back before superior numbers. 
Promptly uniting his fresh men to these wearied ones, he drew up 
his whole division to defend the pass. In a few minutes the head of 
the enemy's column appeared in view ; but at sight of Stirling's 
imposing force, halted. The American General thought this the result 
of timidity on the part of the British, and would have descended into 
the plain to attack Grant, had not his orders restricted him to defend- 
ing the pass. He allowed a portion of his infantry, however, to 
skirmish with parties of the enemy thrown forward for that purpose, 
and meantime grew more and more impatient for the battle. To 
amuse his enemy Grant had opened, at once, a cannonade, which he 
continued with increasing fury as the day 'wore on. To this Stirling 
replied ; and soon the space between the armies was covered with 
wreaths of smoke which undulated with the morning breeze ; 
while the roar of the artillery continually shook the ground, boomed 
along the neighboring bay, and echoed far over the vallies of Staten 
Island. 

At last, through the heavy explosions of artillery, fainter sounds, 
borne on the wind, were distinguishable in the rear. Stirling listen- 
ed to them with an anxious heart, for they seemed to imply that an 
enemy had interposed between him and Putnam. At last, what he 
had foreboded, became no longer doubtful. The Britisli were behind 
him. A retreat, with all possible despatch, on the lines at Brooklyn, 
was his sole resource. Only one route by which this could be eifected 
lay open to him ; this was to cross Mill Creek below the swamp ; for 
to retire above, would bring him face to face with De Heister and 
Clinton. Cornwallis, however, anticipating this intended movement, 
now hastily pushed on to the ford, and, arriving there before Stir- 
ling, took his station at a house near the upper mills. It was below 
this point, fortunately, that Stirlhig had resolved to cross ; but in order 
to conceal the movement of his main body, he resolved to occupy 
the attention of Cornwallis by attacking him with a portion of his 
force. Accordingly he selected six companies of Smallwood's Ma 
ryland riflemen, in number about four hundred, and placing himself 



LORD STIRLING. 265 

in person at their head, prepared to carry out this terrible diversion. 
A few words, by way of address, informed this httle band that they 
were to immolate themselves for their companions ; on which, with 
shouts of enthusiasm, they demanded to be led to the assault. In 
their first onset they were repulsed ; and, indeed, for several succes- 
sive ones. But speedily rallying, they charged again and again, 
until the enemy began finally to waver. Before the deadly fire of 
that courageous corps, the British ranlis thinned rapidly. Seeing the 
foe betray signs of confusion, the brave riflemen, with Stirling wav- 
ing his sword at their head, advanced cheering, to a last assault ; and 
Cornwallis was on the very point of abandoning his post, when 
Grant, wheeling his whole division around an angle of the woods 
in their rear, suddenly appeared in view. To retreat was impossi- 
ble. The soldiers of Cornwallis so lately disheartened, took up the 
shout which, at this sight, died on the tongues of the Americans ; and 
with deafening huzzas, from front and rear, overpowering masses of 
the enemy poured down upon this isolated force. To struggle longer 
would have been a useless waste of blood. Stirling accordingly 
hung out a white handkerchief on the point of a bayonet, and with 
the remnant of his Spartan band surrendered. But he had gained 
his purpose. • During the struggle the remainder of his troops, con- 
cealed by the woods and by the firing, made good their passage of 
the creek, and succeeded in safely reaching the lines at Brooklyn. 

The British were now masters of the last pass, and Grant, empty- 
ing his legions down into the plain, advanced to join De Heister and 
Clinton, when all three uniting, under the personal command of 
Howe, rolled onwards triumphantly to the American lines. Mean- 
time, within those defences, all was alarm and confusion. Parties 
of fugitives, sometimes in whole companies, sometimes in smaller 
fragments, now in good order, now totally disorganized, came 
hurrying across the plain, ^d flinging themselves, breathless, behind 
the entrenchments, communicated a portion of their own terror to 
those within. These were the more easily infected, because mostly 
militia ; for the regular troops had been placed outside to bear the 
brunt of the battle. In vain Putnam had despatched every man he 
could spare, in order to check the retreat : the recruits, as well as 
the fugitives, soon appeared, driving, pell-mell, before the advanced 
parties of the enemy. General Washington had hurried to Brook- 
lyn, as soon as the first cannon announced a battle ; and he 
now witnessed, with anguish indescribable, the rout of his choicest 
troops. His presence restored confidence among the officers; but 
with the common men, the panic still spread. Hour after hour had 
34 X 



266 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 




THE EETBEAT AT LONG ISLAND. 



passed, and yet neither Sullivan nor Stirling appeared, though many 
of their troops had come in, some so blackened with powder, and 
their standards so torn with shot, as to betray the hard fighting they 
had witnessed. At last hope for these brave commanders gave out ; 
for now the enemy darkened the whole space in front of the 
entrenchments : and as column after column marched up, their bur- 
nished muskets flashing in the light, and huzzas of triumph ringing 
along the line, the cry arose that the British were about to storm the 
encampment. Had Howe allowed his men to do so, in that moment 
of enthusiasm on their side, and depression on that of the Americans, 
he would, without doubt, have carried everything before him, and 
almost annihilated his enemy. Washington hastily made what ar- 
rangements he could to resist such an attack, which the increasing 
delay of Howe enabled him to perfect better than he had hoped. 
The day passed, however, without any demonstration on the part of 
the enemy ; but it v/as not until night fell, and the lights of the 
British glittered along the eastern horizon, that the exhausted 
Americans felt secure. 



LORD STIRLING. 267 

This battle has been much and severely criticised ; but, after a 
candid examination, we can see no blame attaching to any one. 
Putnam himself was scarcely aware of the pass by Jamaica, nor had 
he, before the battle, had time to become at home in his position. 
If Greene had continued well, the result of the day might have 
been diiferent. But, perhaps, the defeat of the Americans was 
providential ; for, if they had repulsed the enemy, and been induced 
in consequence to hold Long Island until the British had passed 
their ships up the North and East Rivers, the whole army, instead 
of a part, might, in the end, have fallen a sacrifice. It is astonishing 
that Howe did not wait until he had done this, before he made his 
attack. As it was, the way was left open for Washington to retire. 
This he availed himself of on the night of the 28th, in that memorable 
retreat across the East River, which has always been regarded as 
one of the most brilliant in history. 

The night was dark and misty. The embarkation began in the 
evening. Nine thousand troops, a quantity of military stores, and 
a heavy train of artillery were to be transported across a sheet of 
water and landed in safety on the other side ; and this while an 
active and watchful enemy was posted so close to the American 
camp, that the neigh of a horse from the latter could almost be heard 
by the British sentinels. Yet neither the heavy rumbling of the 
artillery wagons, nor the other unavoidable noises of a retreat, 
warned the enemy of Washington's movement. The Commander- 
in-chief remained at the ferry through the Avhole night, personally 
superintending the embarkation. The high honor of forming the 
covering party was, on this occasion, entrusted to the troops of the 
middle states, as a reward for the gallantry they had shewn in the 
late action. By daybreak all the troops had crossed. Some heavy 
cannon had to be abandoned ; but every thing else was brought off 
in safety. 

The events of Stirling's life, after the battle of Long Island, may 
be told in few words. He remained a prisoner until exchanged for 
the Governor of Florida, and, joining the army in 1777, was present 
at the battles of Brandywine and Germantown, in the last of which 
encounters he commanded the reserve. His next engagement was 
that of Monmouth ; of his conduct on which occasion we have 
already spoken. In 1780, with a force of twenty -five hundred men, 
he was sent on an expedition against Staten Island ; but the enemy 
having received notice of the intended attack, the affair proved 
abortive. In 1781, he took command of the northern army, and 
remained at Albany until the next season, when he removed to 



268 



THE HEKOES OP THE REVOLUTION. 



Philadelphia. When spring opened, however, he again went to 
Albany and resumed command of the northern troops. His life was 
now drawing to a close. The following year, in 1783, he fell a vic- 
tim to the gout. 

Lord Stirling was devotedly attached to Washington ; and it was 
through him that the Conway cabal was brought to hght. In bis 
lature he was frank and generous. He despised trickery, and 
abhorred dissimulation. Perhaps, few men in the army were his 
squals in learning. He always signed himself Stirling, instead of 
Alexander, using his title, and not his family name. 





HUGH MERCER 



HAT Hugh Mercer, a Brigadier- 
General in the continental line, was 
second to few in the Revolution, for 
talents, education, and patriotism, 
is now universally admitted. The 
opening of the war of indepen- 
dence found him engaged in a 
lucrative medical practice, which 
he immediately abandoned to enter 
the army, declaring his willingness 
to serve in any rank or station.— 
This absence of all selfish motives 
continued with him to the end of his 
career. He never joined those who 
complained of Congress for promo- 
tions that seemed to sUght their own 

services ; but, on one of those occasions, only a day or two before 

X* 269 




270 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

nis death, reproved his companions in these words : " We are not 
engaged in a war of ambition, gentlemen," he said, "if we were, I 
should not be here. Every man should be content to serve in that 
station where he can be most useful. For my part I have but one 
object m view, and that is the success of the cause. God can wit- 
neiss how cheerfally I would lay down my life to secure it !" 

Mercer was born in Scotland, though in whafyear has never been 
satisfactorily ascertained. He was old enough, however, to join 
Charles Edward, in that Prince's romantic enterprise to regain the 
crown of the Stuarts, in 1745 ; and, at the battle of Culloden, acted 
as an assistant Surgeon. Flying from a disastrous field, he succeeded 
in escaping the pursuit of the sanguinary Duke of Cumberland, and, 
with a number of his fellow soldiers, sought a refuge in the then 
wilds of America. He settled at Fredericksburg, Virginia, where he 
married and became distinguished as a physician. His martial pro- 
pensities, however, still clung to hira, and in the Indian war of 1755, 
he served as a Captain under Washington. During this campaign 
he made one of those miraculous escapes which have passed into 
popular traditions. Wounded in a sharp engagement, and separated 
from his company, he was flying before the merciless savages, when 
faintness from loss of blood seizing him, he hid himself in the hollow 
of a large tree. In a moment the Indians appeared in sight, and 
even searched around the trunk. Mercer scarcely breathed, so ter- 
rible was his suspense ! At last the savages passed on, and when 
sufficient time had elapsed to render it prudent, he emerged from his 
retreat and began a painful march of more than a hundred miles to 
the abodes of civilization. During the journey he supported himself 
on roots and on the body of a rattlesnake, which crossed his path, 
and which he killed. Finally he reached Fort Cumberland in safety, 
though haggard in looks, and weak from his wound and sufferings. 
For his gallantry in destroying the Indian settlement at Kittanning, 
in Pennsylvania, during this war, the corporation of Philadelphia 
presented him a medal. 

It may, at first, appear surprising that a Scottish Jacobite, the as- 
serter and defender of hereditary right, should become an American 
republican. But the exiles for the cause of Stuart had suffered so 
much from the oppressions of England, that their sympathies were 
at once aroused in behalf of others persecuted like themselves. More- 
over, the followers of Charles Edward were prompted, in undertak- 
ing his cause, more by a sentiment of generous loyalty than by any 
conviction of the superior advantages to be derived from his govern- 
ment ; hencf , those Jacobite predilections being more a feehng than 



HUGH MERCER. 271 

a principle, experienced nothing repugnant, but everything that was 
noble, in adopting the side of men fighting for their hearths and lib 
orty. It was thus, no doubt, that Mercer reasoned, or rather felt. 
Besides, he had formed an intimate friendship for Washington, and 
naturally inclined to adopt the course his old commander had taken 
up. Certain it is that, when the war of independence began, no 
man was more prompt to render his services in behalf of freedom, 
or, as we have seen, with less of selfishness in the ofi'er. Forever 
exiled from his native shores ; never more to behold her brown heaths, 
her hoary glens, or her misty mountains, America was now his coun- 
try, and he prepared to shed his blood for her as freely and disinter- 
CvStedly as when he had made a last stand for his ancient line of 
Princes, on the wild moor of CuUoden. 

In 1775, when the minute-men of Virginia began to marshal, Mercer 
was in command of three regiments of their number. In the beginning 
of the next year, having been appointed a Colonel of the state militia, 
he was of great service in organizing and disciphning these rude re- 
cruits. Many of the troops, especially those from beyond the mountains, 
were wild and turbulent to the last degree, spurning every restraint 
of military rule. On one occasion, a company of these men 
broke out into open mutiny, seized the camp, and threatened with 
instant death any officer who should interfere with their lawless mea- 
sures. Mercer no sooner heard of the disturbance than he hurried 
to the scene, regardless of the entreaties of his friends, who looked on 
him as going to certain destruction. Arriving at the camp, he or- 
dered all the troops to be drawn up for a general parade, when he 
directed the offending company to be disarmed in the presence of the 
others. Intimidated by his bold front, and finding the obedient 
troops far the most numerous, the mutineers suffered themselves to 
be stripped of their weapons without resistance. The ringleaders 
having been placed under a strong guard, Mercer proceeded to ad- 
dress the guilty company. He spoke in eloquent and forcible terms, 
appealing to their better feelings in the capacity of citizens ; then, 
changing his tone, he reminded them that, while soldiers, the penalty 
of death would be their certain fate, if mutineers. The result of this 
bold, yet judicious conduct, was that all symptoms of disorder van- 
ished from that hour. The ringleaders, after an imprisonment of a 
few days, were liberated ; and the company became one of the most 
obedient and effective in the army. 

The reputation of Mercer as a veteran officer was not confined to 
his adopted state ; and, in 1776, Congress, justly estimating his mer- 
its, appointed him a Brigadier-General. He immediately repaired lo 



272 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

the cainp of Washington, who welcomed his old associate with de- 
light. The crisis was critical. It was the hour when the liberties of 
America, after running a short and dazzling career, seemed about to 
expire forever, like those false stars, which shooting athwart the tem- 
pest, coruscate a moment and disappear. The blaze of enthusiasm 
which had illuminated Lexington and Bunker Hill, had vanished 
before the clouds that gathered blacker and blacker around Long 
Island, Fort Washington, and the retreat through the Jerseys. Hope 
almost despaired, as the gloom deepened at the prospect, while the 
land rocked to its utmost shores, as if foreboding earthquake and utter 
dissolution. 

Throughout that disastrous period, Mercer was one of those who, 
never for a moment, was appalled. No fear of sacrificing his family, 
of endangering his life, or of leaving a name stigmatised by that op- 
probious epithet which the successful tyrant bestows on the unsuc- 
cessful rebel, could make him regret the part he had taken. In defeat 
and doubt he was still the same bold, resolute, and efficient officer, 
as in victory and success. When, after the battle of Assunpink, it was 
resolved, in the celebrated midnight consultation at the tent of St. 
Clair, to march on Princeton, and afterwards, if possible, on Bruns- 
wick, to Mercer was committed the important command of the ad- 
vanced guard. The little army that now began its march was but 
the skeleton of what it had been but a few months before. The cel- 
ebrated I'egiment of Smallwood, composed of the flower of the Ma- 
ryland youth, which had gone into battle at Long Island over a 
thousand strong, was reduced to sixty men ; and indeed, nearly the 
whole of Washington's force- was composed of the Pennsylvania 
militia and volunteers, to whom belongs, in a great measure, the 
honor of saving the country in that crisis. The night was dark, 
calm, and cold, and as the army left their burning watch fires and 
plunged into the gloom, many a heart beat uneasily for the success 
of Washington's bold stratagem. The troops took the lower road for 
Sandtown, and about day-break reached Stony Brook, at the distance 
of rather more than a mile and a quarter from the college at Prince- 
ton. A brigade of the enemy was known to be in the town, and to 
intercept its retreat, as well as to cover his own rear from Cornwal 
lis, Washington despatched General Mercer, with a detachment of 
three hundred and fifty men, along the brook, to seize the bridge on 
the old Trenton road. It happened that Lieutenant-Colonel Maw- 
hood, at the head of the 1 7th British regiment, had just crossed this 
bridge on his way to join Cornwallis, but discovering the approach 
of the Americans, he retraced his steps and hastened to seize a rising 



HUGH MERCEH. 273 

ground, not quite five hundred yards distant. Mercer, on his part, 
pressed forward as eagerly to gain the elevation first ; and, availing 
himself of a diagonal course through an orchard, anticipated the 
enemy hy about forty paces. 

The sun had just risen, and the hoar frost bespangled the twigs, 
the blades of grass, every thing around ; never, perhaps, was there 
a more lovely scene than the one so soon to be darkened by the 
smoke of blood and ensanguined by mortal strifie. Advancing to a 
worm-fence, Mercer ranged his men along it and ordered them to 
fire. The British replied, and instantly charged. It was a gallant 
sight, as even their adversaries confess, to see those splendid veter- 
ans advancing through the smoke, their arms glistening, their bayo- 
nets in an unbroken line, and their tramp as steady as on a parade. 
The enemy were comparatively fresh; the Americans were exhausted 
by eighteen hours of fighting and marching, and, moreover, were 
only armed with rifles ; yet they stood until the third fire, when see- 
ing the bayonets of the British bristling close at hand, they turned 
and fled. The ardent and heroic soul of Mercer could not endure 
this spectacle. At first he tried to rally his men, but this was impos- 
sible ; and in a few seconds he found himself deserted in the rear. 
Disdaining to fly, he turned on the foe. At this instant a blow 
from a musket brought him to the ground. He was immediately 
surrounded by the British soldiery who bayoneted him as he lay ; 
but, like a wounded lion, defiant to the last, Mercer continued to 

lunge at his enemies. " Call for quarters, you d -d rebel," and "we 

have got the rebel General," were the cries of the soldiery in this 
melee, each ^ord being accompanied by a new bayonet stroke. But 
still the wounded man fought on, his indignation repelling in words 
the charge of rebellion. Alone, amid his many foes, he maintained 
the unequal strife ! At last, fainting from loss of blood, he sank back, 
to all appearance dead. With an oath at his heroi^j obstinacy, and, 
perhaps, a last thrust ol the bayonet, his assailants now left him, and 
hurried to regain their companions engaged in pursuit of the flying 
foe. 

At the first sound of the firing, Washington directed the Penn- 
sylvania militia to advance, with two pieces of artillery to Mercer's 
support. He headed this detachment in person. As he hurried 
forward, his heart was wrung to behold Mercer's troops flying 
towards him. The Pennsylvania militia, too, showed signs of 
wavering, but Washington dashed into their midst, and, seizing the 
colors, galloped ahead, waving them aloft, and calling on the fugi- 
tives to rally and follow him to meet the foe. His voice did not 
35 



274 THE HEROES OP THE SEVOLUTION. 

fall on unheeding ears. There was a look of momentary terror at 
the enemy, a glance of enthusiasm at their leader, and then, with a 
cheer, they halted, formed into line again, and levelled their arms. 
At this show of resistance, the British column stopped, like a well- 
trained courser checked in full career, the order to dress the line was 
distinctly heard, and a long line of levelled muskets flashed back the 
morning sunbeams. There was a deathless pause. The Com- 
mander-in-chief still stood in the fore-ground, half way between the 
two armies, his tall form conspicuous against the opposite horizon. 
His death seemed inevitable. The pause was but for a second. 
The hoarse command to fire echoed from the British line, and the 
whole of that glittering front was a sheet of flame ; while, at the 
same moment, the two field-pieces of their adversaries hurled on the 
royal flank their tempests of grape. Now followed an agony of 
suspense in the American ranks, until the smoke, lifting from the 
intervening space, disclosed the form of their leader, still towering 
unhurt ; at this a shout burst from the mihtia, and, with one common 
impulse of enthusiasm, they advanced to the charge. But the 
enemy, satisfied with his reception, gave way, leaving his artillery 
behind him. The cheers of victory now redoubled along the line. 
Washington, around whom his friends had pressed to grasp his 
hand, which some did with tears, yielded, an instant, to the affec- 
tionate pressure, and then exclaimed, with a brightening face, 
"Away, and bring up the troops — the day is our own !" 

The Americans now continued their march towards Princeton, 
where the 55th and 40th regiments of the enemy were posted. 
These made some resistance at a deep ravine, not far -south of the 
village, and also at the college, in which they took refuge at the 
approach of the victors. The struggle here, however, was soon 
over. In this battle about one hundred of the British were killed, 
and nearly threg hundred taken prisoners. On the part of the 
Americans the loss was sUght, at least in numbers. But several valu- 
able officers fell. In no battle during the war, indeed, did so many 
men of talents and usefulness lose their lives. Colonels Potter and 
Haslet, Major Anthony Morris, and Captains Fleming, Neal, and 
Shippen, all officers of ability, were among the slain in this sanguin- 
ary struggle. It was in the first part of the action, which did not 
occupy twenty minutes, that most of this mortality occurred. 

After the retreat of the enemy, the wounded Mercer was found 
on the field, and assisted into a house, which stood a few rods from 
the place where he fell. The first information that Washington 
received respecting his old companion in arms, was that he had 



HU&H MERCER. 275 

perished on the field ; and a false story was propagated through the 
army, which is still perpetuated in many popular works, that he had 
been bayonetted after his surrender. On the march to Morristown, 
however, the Commander-in-chief, hearing that Mercer survived, 
deputed Major George Lewis, his own nephew, with a flag and 
letter to Lord Cornwall is, requesting that the bearer might be 
allowed to remain with the wounded General, and tend him during 
his illness. Cornwallis, who was rarely wanting in courtesy, not 
only acceded to this, but sent his own surgeon to wait on the suf- 
ferer. This gentleman, at first, held out hopes to his patient, that 
the wounds, though many and severe, would not be mortal. But 
Mercer, who had been an army-surgeon himself, shook his head 
with a faint smile, and addressing young Lewis, said, " Raise my right 
arm, George, and this gentleman will then discern the smallest of 
my wounds, but which will prove the most fatal. Yes, sir, that is 
a fellow that will soon do my business." His words proved pro- 
phetic : he languished until the 12th, and then expired. He died 
far from his family, and in the house of a stranger ; yet one thought 
cheered him to the last, it was that he perished in the cause of 
freedom ! 

The death bed of Mercer was attended by two females, of the 
society of Friends, who, like messengers from heaven, smoothed his 
pillow and cheered his declining hours. They inhabited the house 
to which he was carried, and refusing to fly during the battle, were 
there when he was brought, wounded and dying, to the threshold. 
History has scarcely done justice to the women of the Revolution. 
Those whose relatives were embarked in the contest were the prey 
of constant anxieties, and had to endure privations such as we would 
now shudder even to record. Death continually removed some bro- 
ther, or parent, or husband. The few who were restrained by religious 
scruples from an active participation in the war, like the peaceful 
females who watched by Mercer's dying bed, still had their warmest 
sympathies enlisted for a suffering country, and were forced, in com- 
mon with others, to submit to sacrifices, the result of the disordered 
condition of affairs. The women of the Revolution were more gene- 
rally true to the cause of freedom than were the other sex. They 
endured in silence and without complaint. Let us pay this tardy 
tribute to the patriotism of those immortal females ! 

Nearly seventy years after Mercer's death, his heroism and untimely 
fate were brought vividly before the minds of the present generation, 
by a ceremony as impressive as it was merited. We allude to the 
removal of his remains from Christ church grave-yard, in Philadel- 



276 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

phia, to the cemetery on Laurel Hill, where a monument had been 
prepared for them. The coffin, covered with a pall, was borne 
through the streets of Philadelphia, in military procession, and with 
the wail of martial music. The side-walks were lined with unco- 
vered spectators, one common sentiment of awe and reverence per- 
vading the vast crowd, as it thus stood face to face, as it were, with 
a martyr of the Revolution ! 





■DKATH OF GENERAL WOLFK. 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR 




N military affairs, to be unfortunate is almost as 
criminal as to be incapable. Arthur St. Clair is an 
example in point. From first to last a fatality ap- 
,peared to follow all his undertakings, and, though 
often engaged, he never achieved a victory. It 
was not owing to a total want of ability that he 
miscarried so universally; for he was brave, careful, 
self-collected, and possessed the advantage of con 
siderable military experience. But, having failed once or twice, the 
reputation of being unlucky ever after attended him: and this senti 
ment dampened the confidence of his soldiers, even if it had no 
effect on himself. The recollection of past glory is a spur to both 
leader and army; while the consciousness of former defeats is always 
dishes Ttening. But there was, besides this, a cause for St. Clair's 
ill-success, exisung in his slavish adherence to rules, and in his want 

Y 277 



278 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLTJ'PIOIf. 

of original and comprehensive grasp of mind. In short, he had 
talent, but no genius; could follow, but was not fit to lead. At 
Princeton and Yorktown, where he was under the eye of Washing- 
ton, he acquitted himself honorably ; but at Ticonderoga and the 
Miami, where he commanded in chief, he reaped only ruin and dis- 
grace. Gates, Lee and himself, all officers educated in the armies 
of Europe, were memorable examples that, in revolutions, it is not 
the accomphshed martinet, but the hero, rough from the people, who 
becomes eminent. 

St. Clair was born in Edinburg, in the year 1734. His education 
was elegant, and early took a military turn. In 1755, at the age of 
twenty-one, he accompanied Admiral Boscawen to this country, and 
receiving an Ensign's commission, took the field in the old French 
war. He was one of the immortal band that followed Wolfe, in his 
expedition against Quebec, and was present, on the heights of Abra- 
ham, when the gallant soul of his leader took flight in the hour of 
victory. Before the close of the war, St. Clair had risen to be a 
Lieutenant. He did not remain in the army, however, but disposing 
of his commission, remained in America and embarked in trade. 
Proving unfortunate in commerce, he removed to Ligonier Valley, in 
Pennsylvania, west of the Alleghany mountains, where, succeeding 
in monopolizing various offices of public business, he rapidly 
acquired a fortune. When the war of independence sent its sum- 
mons through the land, St. Clair assumed arms in behalf of his 
adopted country, and, having received a ColonePs commission, was 
so active in recruiting that he raised a regiment within sixty days. 
He was ordered to Canada, where he arrived just after the death of 
Montgomery. In the affair at Three Rivers he took a part. He 
remained with the invading army until Canada was evacuated, 
estabhshing, among his fellow soldiers, a high character for zeal and 
intrepidity. For his services during the campaign Congress rewarded 
him with the rank of Brigadier-General. 

St. Clair now J9ined the army of Washington. On the morning 
of December 25th, 1776, he accompanied Sullivan's division in the 
memorable attack on Trenton. He was engaged also in the battle 
of Assunpink ; and it was in his tent, on the night after the conflict, that 
the consultation was held, at which the bold manoeuvre of marching 
on the enemy's communications, was resolved upon. Being the 
only general officer acquainted with the country, St. Clair was in 
close attendance on Washington through the eventful transactions 
that succeeded. He was present at the battle of Princeton, though 
here, as at Trenton and Assunpink, no opportunity was afl'orded of 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 279 

particularly distinguishing himself. A high opinion of his talents, 
however, had spread, and this, added to his amiable manners, secured 
his elevation, in the ensuing spring, to the rank of Major-General ; a 
promotion, however, obtained at the expense of Arnold, whose just 
claims were postponed to those of St. Clair. He was now despatched 
to the northern department, in order to assist Schuyler against Bur- 
goyne. Here the command of Fort Ticonderoga devolved on him. 
This was the first instance in his career in which he was called on 
to assume a leading part. The event proved that his abilities had 
been exaggerated. The greatest expectations had been formed of 
his conduct, and the country was in hourly expectation of hearing 
that he had checked Burgoyne ; but, suddenly, in the midst of this 
sanguine belief, came the startling intelligence that Ticonderoga had 
been abandoned. The revulsion was terrible. A universal outcry 
rose up against St. Clair ; it was said that he had been bribed by sil- 
ver bullets shot into his camp ; and Congress, itself carried away by 
the popular feeling, in the first moments of indignation, ordered his 
' recall, as well as Schuyler, and all the Brigadiers. 

At this day, the candid judgment passed on St. Clair, while it jus- 
tifies his intentions, depreciates his ability. He erred, either in not 
abandoning the fort earlier, or in not holding it out to extremity. 
Only one excuse can be given for his conduct. Mount Defiance, 
which commanded the fort, had been always considered inaccessi- 
ble ; consequently, St. Clair took no measures to occupy it ; and when 
Burgoyne, after incredible toil erected a battery there, Ticonderoga, of 
course, became untenable. But no great General trusts to hearsay. 
If Burgoyne had assented, without examination, to the received opi- 
nion respecting Mount Defiance, Ticonderoga would not have fallen 
without a struggle; and the fact that the British leader doubted 
and made an examination, must always be sufficient to condemn St. 
Clair. The enemy arrived under the walls of the fort on the 1st of July, 
1777. On the 5th, the height was occupied. By the ensuing day, 
it was expected that the batteries would be opened, and the invest- 
ment on all sides of the lines complete. In this crisis, a hurried coun- 
cil of war was called, when the sentiment in favor of a retreat was 
found to be universal. To remain was to insure ultimate capture. The 
only resource was to abandon the place in the night, and fall back 
on Schuyler at Fort Edward. 

In a great degree the country itself is answerable for the loss of 
this fortress. The opinion appears to have been general that Ti- 
( onderoga was impregnable, and that it could be defended by a com- 
paratively small force ; hence the army under St. Clair, as appeared 



280 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

on his trial, was not a third of what was required properly to man 
the works. His small numbers left him no resource but to retreat, 
especially after the battery was erected on Mount Defiance. Accord- 
ingly, on the night of the 5th of Juty, the hapless garrison stole from 
the fartress. The baggage, the hospital furniture, the sick, and such 
stores as the haste would allow, were embarked on board above two 
hundred batteaux and five armed galleys ; and the whole being 
placed under the charge of a strong detachment, commanded by 
Colonel Long, was despatched up Wood Creek, in the direction of 
Fort Edward. The main army proceeded on foot, taking the route 
of Castleton, St. Clair in the van, and Colonel Francis bringing up 
the rear. It was two o'clock in the morning of the 6th, before St. 
Clair left the fort. He had ordered the utmost silence to be pre- 
served, and the lights to be extinguished ; but unfortunately a house 
accidentally took fire on Mount Independence, and by the glare of 
the conflagration the flight of the Americans was detected. Instantly 
the alarm spread in the British camp, and the troops, roused from 
slumber, began a pursuit. Burgoyne undertook for his part to fol- 
low up the galleys, while Generals Reidesel and Frazer gave chase 
to St, Clair. Burgoyue had to cut through some heavy booms and 
a bridge, but, wth incredible activity he succeeded in doing this by 
nine o'clock in the morning, and, dashing through the passage, urged 
every muscle and nerve to overtake the baggage. By three o'clock 
he came up with the rear boats near Skeensborough Falls, and at- 
tacked them with great fury. At the same time, three English regi- 
ments, which had been landed, with orders to turn the Americans at 
the Falls, appeared in sight ; on which the fugitives, abandoning 
their baggage and setting fire to their batteaux, fell back precipitately 
to Fort Anne. 

The main army under St. Clair fared little better. Aware that 
he could save his troops only by the rapidity of his flight, that ofiicer 
pressed forward with such eagerness that, on the night succeeding 
the evacuation, he was at Castleton, thirty miles from Ticonderoga. 
The rear guard under Colonels Francis and Warner, rested at Hub- 
bardston, six miles short of that place ; and,having been augmented 
from shore by the van, who, from excessive fatigue, had lagged be- 
hind, amounted to a thousand men. This little band, on whom the 
salvation of the whole army devolved, was assailed at five o'clock 
on the morning of the 7th, by General Frazer, at the head of eight 
hundred and fifty veterans. The battle was, for a while, gallantly 
contested. After several shocks, with alternate success, the British 
began to give way ; but Frazer rallied them an-ew, and led mem to 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 281 

a furious charge with the bayonet. Before this impetuous assault, 
the Americans began to shake ; and, at this crisis, Riedesel appear 
ing, with a column of fresh grenadiers to reinforce Frazer, the rout 
was rendered complete. Colonel Francis, with several officers, and two 
Hundred men, were left dead on the field ; while Colonel Hall, and sev- 
enteen other officers, besides over two hundred men, were taken 
prisoners. Nearly six hundred are supposed to have been wounded, 
of whom many died miserably, in the woods, before they could 
reach the inhabited country. The whole British loss did not exceed 
one hundred and eighty. At the beginning of the battle there were 
two regiments of Americans about two miles in the rear of Colonel 
Francis. These were ordered up to his assistance, but instead of 
obeying, they fled to Castleton. Had they arrived to his succor, the 
British would probably have been cut to pieces. It will always be 
a reflection on St. Clair that he was not present in this action. If 
Putnam, or Wayne, or any other of the indomitable souls of the Revo- 
lution, had been in command of the retreating garrison, there would 
have been one of the bloodiest frays on that July morning which 
history records. Compare Putnam retreating from Bunker Hill, or 
even Stirling, falling back at Long Island, with St. Clair, on this occa- 
sion, and how much does the latter suffer by the comparison ! Yet 
St. Clair did not want courage. It was heroic resolution that he 
required — ^the determination to die rather than retreat. The spirit of 
Leonidas was wanting in him ! 

On receiving intelligence of this defeat, and also of the defeat at 
Skeensborough, St. Clair hesitated whether to retire to the upper 
waters of the Connecticut, or fall back upon Fort Edward. The arri- 
val of the remains of the rear-guard, ten days after, at Manchester, 
where he then was, decided him to adopt the latter course. He 
reached Fort Edward, on the 12th of July, and found Schuyler 
already there. Colonel Long, who had commanded the detachment 
in charge of the batteaux, also succeeded in gaining Fort Edward 
about this time. At this post the consternation was general, except 
in the heroic soul of Schuyler. To add to the calamity, the inhabi 
tants of the surrounding region, struck with terror by the retreat ol 
St. Clair, came pouring past the fort on their flight to the lower set 
tlements, having abandoned their houses and crops to the mercy ol 
the foe. At this day we can scarcely comprehend the excite- 
ment and alarm of that crisis. Nor was it confined to the immediate 
vicinity of the invading host. The blow struck on the shores of Lake 
Ohamplain, vibrated through the land, from extremity to extremity, 
communicating a sense of horror to every breast. The shocK at once 
36 Y* 



^82 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

prostrated St. Clair in the popular estimation. And though a court- 
martial subsequently exonerated him, declaring, what is true, that he 
violated no military rule, the verdict of the country has been, from 
that day to this, unfavorable to the genius and hefoism of the oeaten 
General. 

Let us not be misunderstood. St. Clair was guilty only of a 
negative. fault. He did not do all that a Ney, or Macdonald would 
have done : yet he did every thing that military rules required. 
Napoleon would have condemned him, nevertheless. The popular 
verdict was more true than that of the court-martial, at least for the 
purposes of history, which should endeavor to make the hero and 
not the mere General the standard. St. Clair, however, did not lose 
the confidence of Washington. A sense of the injustice done the 
unfortunate General, in imputing treasonable motives to him, had 
its effect in producing this course on the part of the Commander-in- 
chief, though, it is beyond a doubt, his opinion of St. Clair's capacity 
was not as high, after these events, as it had been before. His 
appointment of this General to the command of the Miami expedi- 
tion, in 1791, does not disprove this statement: for the post was one 
to which St. Clair was entitled by seniority; and besides, though not 
a first-rate officer, he was one of average ability. In short, St. Clair 
was not equal to Greene as a strategist; and was inferior to Putnam 
as a leader in battle: yet there is no evidence that he was worse 
than several other general officers who have escaped oppi-obrium. 
And whatever may be thought of his abilities, his patriotism must 
stand unquestioned. 

St. Clair was present at the battle of Brandy wine, though he held 
no command. He was also at Yorktown when Cornwallis surren- 
dered, having arrived a few days before the capitulation. From 
this place he was despatched with six regiments to the aid of Greene, 
but the struggle in the Carolinas had terminated before he reached 
his destination. On the conclusion of peace, St. Clair retired to 
Penns3^1vania, of which state he was elected a member of Congress 
in 1786. In 1787 he was chosen President of that commonwealth. 
In 1788 he was appointed Governor of the north-western territory. 
It thus appears that the obloquy which had, at first, attended the 
loss of Ticonderoga had gradually subsided, and that his country, 
sensible of the injustice she had done him, was not unwilling to 
make some amends. In Pennsylvania, where he was regarded 
almost as a native-born citizen, he had never been so unpopular as 
in the more northern states ; and he now continued to enjoy the 
confidence of that commonwealth to a large degree. 



ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. 283 

St. Clair appeared but once more before the people as a military- 
leader, and on this last occasion failed as fatally as at Ticonderoga, 
and from similar causes. The Indian depredators on the Miami 
requiring chastisement, Washington, in 1791, despatched an army 
to their country. The force was entrusted to St. Clair. On the 1st 
of September he left Fort Washington, and moving north in the 
direction of the enemy^s territories, had, on the 3rd of November, 
arrived within fifteen miles of the Indians. During the march, his 
force had dwmdled down, in consequence of desertion and other 
eauses, from two thousand to fourteen hundred men. On the morn- 
ing of the 3rd, just after parade, the savages made an unexpected 
assault on St. Clair's army, and, driving in the militia^ who were 
posted in advance, precipitated them, a mass of affrighted fugitives, 
on the regulars, whom they threw into disorder. The Americans 
were soon surrounded, and most of their officers and artillerists 
picked off. The men, now huddled together in confusion, became 
an easy prey to the bullets of their concealed foe. A terrific slaugh- 
ter ensued. St. Clair, in vain endeavored to rally his troops, and 
finally was forced to give the order to retr-eat. This retrograde 
movement was soon changed into a flight, the men even casting 
aside their arms in order to assist their speed ; nor did the fugitives 
pause until, on^the evening of that day, they reached Fort Jefferson, 
thirty miles from the field of battle. In this sanguinary defeat the 
army of St. Glair lost thirty-eight officers and five hundred and nine- 
ty-three soldiers killed ; while twenty-one offi_cers and two hundred 
and forty-two men were wounded. The Indian force was probably 
from one thousand to fifteen hundred. 

This defeat again covered St. Clair with popular odium, which 
was not lessened by the brilliant victory of Wayne in the succeeding 
campaign. St. Clair's error appears to have been the same with that 
of Braddock, a too rigid adherence to military rules unsuited to fron- 
tier warfare. An unfortunate disagreement with his second in com- 
mand contributed also to the disaster. The loss of this battle closed 
the military career of St. Clair. He was continued in his office of 
Governor of the north-western territory, however, through the rest 
of Washington's term, and the succeeding administration of John 
Adams; but in 1802, was removed by President Jefferson. 

He now returned to Ligonier Valley. But he was no longer 
wealthy. The little property which had remained to him at the 
close of the Revolution, had now been dissipated, in various vicissi- 
tudes of fortune. At one period, prior to his appointment to the 
north-west territory, he appears to have enjoyed comparative opu- 



284 



THE HEROES OF THE REVCLUTION. 



lence, for a coteniporary describes him as engaged in the business 
of an auctioneer and Uving in elegant style in Philadelphia. But 
this prosperity had long since departed. He was now poor, unpopu- 
lar, and without influence. He still held some claims against gov- 
jsrnment, and on these he fondly relied as the support of his old age. 
But the claims were barred by technicalities. At last in despair, he 
is said to have sought refuge in the family of a widowed daughter, 
living in a condition of the greatest penury. Relief finally came, 
though not from his country. It was his adopted state which stepped 
forward to his aid, and by settling on him an annuity of three hun- 
dred dollars, rescued him from positive indigence. Soon after, this 
annuity was raised to six hundred and fifty dollars. 

St. Clair died on the 31st of August, 1818, having survived to the 
age of eighty -four. 





PHILIP SCHUYLER. 




rniHILIP Schuyler, a Ma- 
jor-General in the con- 
tinental army, was born 
at Albany, in 1733. He 
was descended from the 
ancient Dutch family of 
Schuyler, so conspicuous 
in the early history of 
New York. His abilities 
were rather solid than 
brilliant. Of great energy, 
full of resources, industrious, courageous, never yielding to despair, 
he was capable of great deeds ; and, having been in command of the 
northern department during most of the expedition of Burgoyne, 
should share, with Gates, the credit of the Saratoga convention. He 
was a patriot in the highest sense of that term. Possessing a large 
fortune, he risked it all for his country. Unjustly treated by Congress, 
he served them notwithstanding their ingratitude. Though of quick 

285 



286 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

temper, he was magnanimous; and in his whole Ufe was never 
guilty of a meanness. His social qualities were the delight of his 
family and friends. 

Schuyier received an excellent education, at least for the colonies, 
and rose to eminence among his young companions, in the study of 
mathematics. He early turned his attention to military affairs. In 
1755, he took part, with the rank of Captain, in the unfortunate ex- 
pedition against Ticonderoga ; and, after the death of Lord Howe, 
was deputed to attend the corpse back to Albany. He afterwards 
served as a member of the Provincial Assembly, and made himself 
conspicuous by his bold and resolute stand in favor of the rights of 
the colonies. He moved, and carried, after a strong debate, a series 
of resolutions asserting that the Stamp Act, and others of the op- 
pressive measures of the ministry, were grievances which ought to 
be redressed. This decided conduct, so early in the struggle, and 
from a man who had such large hereditary possessions at stake, de- 
serves for the name of Schuyler the lasting gratitude of America. 
Without him, and Clinton, and Woodhull, New York would proba- 
bly have been lost to the confederation ! 

Schuyler was a member of the second Continental Congress, and 
there form.ed that intimacy with Washington, which ended only with 
the death of the latter. When the army was organized with Wash- 
ington as Commander-in-chief, Schuyler was appointed one of the 
Major-Generals, and assigned the command of the northern depart- 
ment. In September he was directed to invade Canada. Being, 
however, seized with illness and incapacitated from exertion in the 
field, he was forced to return to Albany, when the command 
devolved upon Montgomery, who gallantly and faithfully executed 
his trust, until he fell, in the arms of glory, on the fatal plains of 
Abraham. Having recovered from his indisposition he was ordered 
to Tryon county, in his native state, to adjust the disturbances exist- 
ing there. In the depth of winter he marched up the Mohawk, 
quelled the threatened storm, and established a treaty with the hos- 
tile Indians. His powers, both of mind and body, were taxed to 
their utmost', at this period, by the requirements of Congress ; but, 
having once dedicated himself to his country, he hesitated at no 
sacrifice of time or health. 

To give an idea of the immense labor Schuyler went through, we 
will state his duties for the space of little over a year. In December, 
1775, he was ordered, as we have seen, to disarm the tories of 
Tryon county; on the 8th of January, 1776, he was directed to 
have the river St. Lawrence, above and below Quebec, explored j 
on the 25th, he was commanded to repair Fort Ticonderoga, and 



PHILIP SCHUYLER. 287 

render it defensible; on the 17th of February, he was summoned 
to take command of the forces, and to conduct the military opera- 
tions at the city of New York; in March, he was requested to fix 
his head-quarters at Albany, for the purpose of raising and forward- 
ing supplies to the army in Canada; in June he was called on to hold 
a conference, and establish a treaty, if possible, with the Six Nations ; 
and immediately afterwards, the 1-ast order being countermanded, 
he was hurried away to Lake Champlain, to build vessels to resist 
the English armament fitting out at St. Johns. All these manifold 
duties he could not, of course, have performed under his immediate 
eye, but he was responsible for the agents he selected, and neces- 
sarily compelled to superintend their performances, to a certain 
degree. Fortunately he was quick and acute in the despatch of 
business. Congress, knowing this fact, availed themselves largely 
of his assistance. 

Schuyler had been superseded, for a short time, in the command 
of the northern army, by Gates. When, however, the long threat- 
ened invasion by Burgoyne, at last burst, like some huge tempest 
that had been lowering all day on the horizon, he was again at the 
head of that department, and prepared to resist the invaders with 
heroic resolution. Never had there been a more splendid army 
landed in America than that which accompanied Burgoyne. The 
British ministry had allowed that General to dictate the number and 
quality of his own forces, in fact, had surrendered to him the entire 
supervision of the whole affair. His brilliant reputation promised 
results the most glorious to England, the most disastrous to America. 
At the head of ten thousand veteran troops, and with a magnificent 
train of artillery, while clouds of savages and Canadians hung on his 
flanks and brought him the earliest intelligence of the movements 
of his foe, Burgoyne advanced from Canada, like some invincible 
hero, scattering proclamations full of promises to those who would 
return to their allegiance, but breathing only vengeance and destruc- 
tion to those who should dare to oppose his steps. At first, he 
swept everything before him. The once impregnable fortress of 
Ticonderoga in vain opposed his progress. The country, which had 
trusted, perhaps, too securely in its strength, was paralyzed on hear- 
ing of its fall, and a general cry of horror rose up, from one end of 
the continent to the other ! 

The news of the capture of Ticonderoga reached Schuyler at 
Stillwater. Pursuing his journey, he heard, on the same day, at 
Saratoga, of the loss of the stores at Skeensborough. As yet, how 
ever, he had received no intelligence of St. Clair. Hurrying forward 
to Fort Edward, he arrived there just in time to welcome his unfor- 



888 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

tunate subordinate, who, with troops worn down with fatigue, and 
himself jaded in mind and body, reached there on the 10th of July. 
The whole force under Schuyler, even after the junction of St. Clair, 
amounted to little over four thousand, including the militia. He 
was in want of every necessary for his soldiers, who themselves 
were broken down and dispirited. Indeed, when he looked back 
on the reverses which had attended his command, he could scarcely 
rally his own spirits ; for, in the late actions, the Americans had lost 
one hundred and twenty -eight pieces of artillery, with a vast quan- 
tity of warlike stores, baggage and provisions. But Schuyler did 
not allow even this consideration to make him despond. He felt 
that the crisis was one demanding energy, and that, if errors had 
been committed by others, it was his part to repair them. The 
enemy still lay at Skeensborough, from which the navigation up 
Wood Creek was comparatively easy to Fort Anne, within sixteen 
miles of Fort Edward. Between these two latter places, the country 
was covered with thick woods, was almost entirely unsettled, and 
was cut up by creeks and morasses. To retard the progress of his 
enemy, and thus gain time, was the course adopted by Schuyler ; 
and was the wisest which could have been selected under the cir- 
cumstances. He despatched parties to impede the navigation of 
Wood Creek, to break up the bridges, to fell trees across the roads, 
and to render the ravines everywhere impassable. He also ordered 
what live stock there was on the route to be driven into Fort Ed- 
ward. Thus, nothing but a savage wilderness was left for Burgoyne 
to traverse, rendered more inhospitable and dreary by every device 
of human ingenuity. As a further resource, Schuyler detached 
Colonel Warner to hang on the enemy's left flank, and endeavor to 
raise the militia in that quarter, trusting that the British General 
would become alarmed for his communications, and weaken his 
main army by sending back a reinforcement to Ticonderoga. 

Meantime, the first stunning blow having passed away, the country 
began to rally to Schuyler's support. Washington wrote, in the 
most cheering terms, from his head-quarters. " We should never 
despair," he said. " Our situation has before been unpromising, 
and has changed for the better. So, I trust, it will again." He 
accompanied these expressions by the most energetic efforts to assist 
the northern army. He ordered a supply of tents to be obtained for 
Schuyler ; he procured artillery and ammunition to be forwarded 
from Massachusetts ; he directed General Lincoln to raise the militia 
of that commonwealth, and hasten to the aid of Schuyler ; and he 
despatched General Arnold, and also Colonel Morgan, with the 
latter's celebrated corps of riflemen, in hopes that the presence of 



PHILIP SCHUYLER. 2S9 

these two gallant officers might re-animate the northern troops. In 
consequence, appearances at Fort Edward began to assume a more 
cheerful aspect. The numbers of militia there augmented daily. 
A large reinforcement of continental troops had hurried up from 
Peekskill. Every day, however, while these additions to his force 
were going on, Schuyler had to listen to the doleful tales of the fugi- 
tive settlers, who, deserting their houses and farms on the route of 
Burgoyne, rushed forward to Fort Edward as their only hope of 
safety. The British General, slowly working his way through the 
obstacles which had been thrown in his path, was advancing, like 
softie huge serpent toiling at every foot of land over which it dragged 
its weary body, yet certain of its prey at last. 

It was the 30th of July before the enemy reached Fort Edward, 
and when they arrived, to their chagrin they found it tenantless. 
Schuyler, not deeming it advisable to wait Burgoyne's approach, 
had retired over the Hudson to Saratoga : and soon after, continuing 
his retreat, he fell back to Stillwater, near the mouth of the Mohawk. 
The country along this route was better populated than above Fort 
Edward, and universal consternation now spread among the inhabi- 
tants. The news of the melancholy tragedy of Miss McCrea had, 
by this time, spread far and wide, and, exaggerated in all its details, 
brought mortal terror wherever it was heard. Other atrocities com- 
mitted by the savages who attended Burgoyne were rehearsed, until 
the hairs of the listeners stood on end, and the mother, clasping her 
babe, thought no longer ofpreservingher once happy home, but only 
of seeking safety in flight. The massacre at Fort Henry during the 
last war, was recalled to memory, to increase the dismay and horror 
of the settlers. A universal afiright seized on the inhabitants. The 
old man grasped his cane, and giving a last look on the home pro- 
vided for his declining days, took up a long journey for the lower 
districts : the sturdy father yoked his team, and placing his family 
in it with a few household goods, shouldered his musket and set 
forth in the same direction ; while the widowed matron, gathering 
her little ones around her, and looking back, through blinding tears, 
on the deserted habitation that was the sole support of her children, 
followed wearily in the track of the other fugitives. In the haste to 
fly, many left the corn standing in the field, and the grain piled in 
their barns. Others, with a resolution born of despair, fired their 
houses and destroyed their crops before beginning their flight, in 
order that the enemy might derive no assistance from these supplies. 
Thus, the population, as when the ice breaks up in some vast river, 
hurried towards the south, until accumulating in one enormous pile, 
37 ^ 



890 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 




MASSACRE AT FORT HENRY IN SEVENTEEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SEVEN. 



it choked up its own passage and remained an impassable barrier 
for the foe. 

But while the whole community was flying before him, and a once 
smiling country becoming a depopulated waste, Burgoyne was be- 
ginning to experience those difficulties which the far-seeing wisdom 
of Schuyler had prepared for him. The surrounding districts being 
aniversally hostile, he was forced to draw all his provisions from Ti- 
conderoga, and accordingly, from the 30th of July to the 15th 
of August, his time was monopolized in forwarding stores from the 
lower extremity of Lake George, to the first navigable point on the 
Hudson, a distance of eighteen miles. The roads were steep, broken 
and out of repair. Incessant rains fell and added to his difficulties. 
Scarcely one-third of the horses expected from Canada had arrived. 
With difficulty so small a number as fifty pair of oxen had been 
procured. Under all these complicated misfortunes it was found 
toilsome to supply the army with food from day to day, and utterly 
impracticable to collect such a store as would furnish a magazine for 
the campaign. On the 15th of August, Burgoyne had provisions for 
only four days. Like the man in the fairy tale, he had entered with- 
m an enchanted forest, where every step only carried him further 
from hope, and where the clouds gathered darker and the thunder 
nmtteied louder as the day advanced. 

In this emergency he determined on an enterprise which he fondly 
Delieved would extricate him from his difficulties. At the village of 
Bennington, about twenty miles east of the Hudson, the Americans 



PHILIP SCHUYLER. 291 

had collected large quantities of live cattle, corn, and other necessa 
ries ; and Burgoyne, anticipating an easy conquest, resolved to detach 
Colonel Baum, with six hundred men, to capture this place and ex- 
pedite the provisions from there to the royal camp. Baron Riedesel 
in vain expostulated against this division of the forces, and hinted at 
the possibility of the expedition being cut off. But Burgoyne saw no 
alternative. A crisis had come when it was necessary to draw sup- 
plies from the surrounding country or retreat. He coimted on the 
bravery of his troops for a certain victory, and believed that such a 
check would strike terror and insure the neutrality of the inhabitants. 
Two hundred of Baum's force were dismounted dragoons, who were 
to obtain horses for themselves during this forage ; and, in order to 
facilitate the operations of the detachment as far as possible, Bur- 
goyne moved down the Hudson and established himself nearly oppo- 
site to Saratoga. The result of this expedition was the decisive bat- 
tle of Bennington, in which Stark, at the head of the New England 
militia, stormed and carried the entrenchments of Baum, after a ter- 
rific contest two hours in duration. A few days afterwards another 
misfortune befell Burgoyne. This was the defeat of Colonel St. 
Leger, at Fort Schuyler, on the Mohawk, by which that officer was 
compelled to retire in confusion to Montreal, instead of advancing 
in triumph to Albany and there joining Burgoyne, as had been ar- 
ranged in the original plan of the campaign. 

Everything now promised a speedy victory over this proud Brit- 
ish army, which, so lately, with the pomp of a conquering host, had 
darkened the waters of the lake. The measures of Schuyler were 
beginning to bear their fruit. From all sides the militia, aroused 
to a sense of the danger, were pouring into the American camp. Al- 
ready the terror of Burgoyne's name was broken. The fall of Ticon- 
deroga had not been able long to depress the public mind ;. and on a 
nearer view of their condition, the neighboring inhabitants began to 
take courage. To despair had first succeeded hope, and now followed 
the certainty of success. As the spirits of the Americans rose, those 
of the enemy fell. The timid, who had lately leaned to the British 
side, now came out openly in favor of their countrymen ; the disaf- 
fected, alarmed at the aspect things were assuming, hesitated before 
they took the irrevocable step ; and the open tories, who had been 
active in assisting the enemy, began to tremble for their families, if 
not for themselves, and express their anxiety that Clinton, by a bold 
push up the Hudson, should form a junction with Burgoyne and an 
nihilate at once the hopes of the Americans. Every day added to 
the., embarrassments of the royal army. Every day increased the 
numbers of Schuyler's force. Like a hive of ants suddenly disturbed 



292 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

the neighboring population thronged to the scene of strife, until the 
land, far and near, was in a buzz with the advancing hosts. 

But Schuyler was not destined to reap the victory for which he 
had so laboriously sown. Although not present at the fall of Ticon- 
deroga, as the superior officer he had come in for his share of blame ^ 
and in New England especially, where the loss was most keenly 
felt, the charge of treason was openly whispered against him. 
Schuyler had never been popular with the troops of Connecticut, 
Massachusetts and New Hampshire ; and, perhaps, for reasons sim- 
ilar to those which rendered Putnam unpopular in New York. Local 
prejudices, at that day, were stronger than at present ; and being a 
New Englander as frequently condemned a man in New York, a& 
being a New Yorker condemned a man in New England. This sec- 
tional feeling was the basis of Schuyler's unpopularity. The mis- 
fortunes of the earlier part of the summer afforded room for his 
enemies to dilate on his pretended incapacity 5 and the current of 
opinion, especially in the neighboring states, soon set so strongly 
against him as to render his removal desirable. It often becomes 
necessary for a government to yield to popular clamor, even when 
unjust, and the present instance was an example ; for it was feared 
that the New England troops would not rally properly, unless under 
a favorite leader. Schuyler was accordingly superseded, and Gates 
appointed in his place. The unfairness of being recalled at this cri- 
sis, when victory was certain, was felt acutely by the disgraced Gene- 
ral. " It is," he wrote to Washington, " matter of extreme chagrin 
to me to be deprived of the command at a time when, soon if 
ever, we shall probably be enabled to face the enemy ; when we are 
on the point of taking ground where they must attack to a disadvan- 
tage, should our force be inadequate to facing them in the field ; when 
an opportunity will, in all probability, occur, in which I might evince 
that I am not what Congress have too plainly insinuated, by taking 
the command from me." The Commander-in-chief secretly acknow- 
ledged the force of these reasons, and saw, with regret, his old and 
valued friend made an unavoidable sacrifice to local prejudices, for 
the good of the common cause ! 

This is the proper place for a remark, forced on us by the circum- 
rtances we are considering. It is that the local prejudices of that 
period have survived in part and that even grave historians now 
canvass the relative merits of revolutionary Generals from different 
sections of the union, and the comparative sacrifices made by the 
various commonwealths in behalf of the common cause. There 
should be no such jealousies admitted at this day. Let a holy veil 
kang over the dissensions of the past ! Every quarter of the union 



PHILIP SCHUYLER. 293 

furnished its distinguished men for the war of independence. Wash- 
ington came from Virginia, Putnam from Connecticut, Schuyler and 
the Clintons from New York, Wayne from Pennsylvania, Manon 
from South Carolina, and a host of others, less distinguished, because 
perhaps less favored by circumstances, from the most remote sec- 
tions of the confederation. In civil talents also the honors were 
equally divided. The middle states afforded Jay and Morris, the 
New England states Hancock and Adams, Virginia Jefferson and 
Henry, South Carolina her immortal Rutledge. Nor can the impartial 
annalist award to any portion of the country the palm of superior sacri- 
fices in the war. The New England states nominally furnished the 
most men, but their recruits were generally for nine months ; hence, 
they counted three or four times where the recruits of other states, 
enlisting for three years, counted once. After the first year of the 
war. New England was comparatively free from the presence of an 
enemy, while the middle and southern states were ravaged without 
intermission. It must be remembered, likewise, that in New York 
and Pennsylvania the number of loyalists was much greater than in 
New England, and that consequently the exertions of the patriots in 
the former states, even if apparently less, were in reality as great as 
in the more united provinces. There were more large fortunes to be 
lost in the middle states than in New England, and hence the risk 
the patriots there ran was relatively greater. In short, it would be 
invidious to exalt one portion of the confederation at the expense of 
the other. If Boston was the cradle of the Revolution, Philadelphia 
was the altar where it was baptised. If, at Lexington the ball of 
the Revolution was set in motion, at Yorktown it received the stroke 
that sent it victoriously home. 

Though Schuyler, by his removal at this juncture suffered a greater 
injury than was inflicted on any other individual during the war, he 
did not allow his exertions in behalf of his country to be affected by 
it. He was the same noble-hearted patriot, whether in retirement 
or surrounded by power. On the arrival of Gates, he communicated 
to his successor all the information he possessed, and placing every 
paper in his hands, added, " I have done all that could be done as 
far as the means were in my power, to injure the enemy, and to 
inspire confidence in the soldiers of our army, and I flatter myself 
with some success ; but the palm of victory is denied me, and it is 
left to you, General, to reap the fruits of my labors. I will not fail, 
however, to second your views ; and my devotion to my country 
will cause me with alacrity to obey all your orders." He kept' his 
word, and by his knowledge of the country, and his popularity 

z* 



i^94 THE HEROES OE THE REVOLUTION. 

among the surrounding inhabitants, was of frequent assistance to 
Gates. On the 16th of October, less than two months after he was 
superseded, the whole British army surrendered as prisoners of war. 
A popular anecdote is told of General Schuyler on this event. Dining 
with Burgoyne, the captive General apologized to him for having 
a few days before, burnt the latter's elegant country seat. " Make 
no excuses, my dear General," was the felicitous reply; "I feel 
myself more than compensated by the pleasure of meeting you at 
this table." The courtesy and kindness of heart of Schuyler was 
evinced, at the same period, by his delicacy towards the Baroness 
Riedese], the wife of one of the prisoners. 

In the first moments of indignation, after hearing of the loss of 
Ticonderoga, Congress, by a sweeping resolve, recalled all the Gene- 
rals of the northern department, and directed an inquiry to be made 
into their conduct. On the remonstrance of Washington, however, 
who represented the peril to the service, of a recall of the Generals 
in this crisis, the intention was, for the present, abandoned. Ultimately 
it was put in force, as we have seen, against Schuyler. After the 
surrender of Burgoyne, the misused General was urgent for a court- 
martial, which was finally granted. By this body he was honorably 
acquitted. He now sought, and obtained leave to resign his com- 
mission. He had long contemplated this measure, and only delayed 
it until his exculpation ; nor, under the circumstances, can we blame 
his decision. There was no chance of his ever being useful again in 
a military capacity to his country ; for the prejudices against him 
would forbid his employment in any station worthy his rank. Be- 
sides, the crisis of the war was considered past. Yet there was nothing 
of passionate revenge in this decision of Schuyler ; the assistance he 
rendered Gates proved he was above such littleness. He was still 
willing to serve his country, though in another capacity. How dif- 
ferent this conduct from that of Arnold, who, on far less provoca- 
tion, became a traitor ! 

After his retirement from the army, Schuyler entered Congress, 
where he served during the sessions of 1777 and 1779. He subse- 
quently occupied a seat in the Senate of his native state. In 1789, 
after the adoption of the federal constitution, he was elected a United 
States Senator from New York, and in 1797 was re-elected for 
another term. His health beginning to give way, however, he 
resigned. He died in November, 1804, a short time after his son-in 
law, Alexander Hamilton — an event which is said to have hastened 
his own deal 11. At the period of his decease he had attained the 
age of seventy-one. 




JOHN STARK. 




John Stark of New Hampshire, 
a Major-General in the continental 
line, belongs the credit of having 
i^ been the only man, during the war 
|)1\|^' of independence, who, at the head 
~ \ of a body of militia, stormed and 
carried entrenchments defended by 
veteran troops. At Bunker Hill, 
the British regulars, though assisted 
by artillery, and exceeding in num- 
bers the Americans, were twice 
driven back, and would probably 
have been a third time repulsed, 

but foTthe failure of their ammunition; while at Bennington, the 

295 



296 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

New England militia snccessfully assaulted works defended by 
batteries, and utterly defeated one of the finest corps in the army of 
Burgoyne. JNIuch of the glory of this achievement belongs exclu- 
sively to Stark, whose influence over his raw levies was miraculous, 
and whose skill availed itself of every possible contingency in his 
favor. In short, the hero of Bennington was one of the ablest mih- 
tary men of the Revolution, and, but for his strong local prejudices 
and tenacity on the score of rank, would have deserved unqualified 
praise as a patriot. We do not mean to imply, however, that Stark 
was not devoted to his country, but only that he gave the preference 
to that portion of it where he was born and bred : " not that he loved 
America less, but New England more." Nor can his tenacity on 
the point of military rank, fairly be reprehended. It is curious to 
trace the effect of this sentiment on three prominent men of the Re- 
volution. Mercer, in the enthusiasm of his chivalric soul, declared 
his willingness to fight, even in the most subordinate capacity. 
Stark, with more of personal feeling, resigned his commission when 
he found his claims neglected. Arnold, in whom there was an 
almost total absence of the moral sense, became a traitor, to revenge 
similar wrongs. In Mercer there was the true heroic metal, an 
absence of all selfishness : in Stark there was just enough leaven of 
the baser feeling to reduce his character* to the scale of common 
humanit^r ; in Arnold selfishness triumphed over patriotism, and 
sunk him below his race, to be execrated as a villain to all time ! 

Stark was born in Londonderry, Sew Hampshire, the 28th, of 
August, 172S. His father was a native of Glasgow, who had emi- 
grated first to Ireland, and afterwards to America. The son grew 
up athletic and hardy, though with but little education. At the age 
of twenty-four, while engaged on a hunting expedition, he was 
made prisoner by the savages. In the perilous situation in which 
he now found himself, he first displayed those qualities of mind 
which afterwards rendered him so remarkable. Brave and adven- 
turous, with great insight into character, and a coolness that never 
deserted him in emergencies, he was always ready to act, and in the 
wisest way, when others lost all presence of mind. An instance in 
point soon occurred. He was carried to the Indian village, with a 
companion taken at the same time, and the young warriors, arming 
themselves with clubs, and forming a double line, ordered their 
prisoners to run the customary gauntlet. The companion of Stark 
«juffered a severe beating before he could gain the council house. 
But when it came to the turn of the latter, suddenly seizing a club 
from the first warrior, he laid about him right and left, scattering the 



JOHN STARK. 297 

young men to the great amusement of the older Indians, and reach 
ing the end of the Hne almost without receiving a blow. Soon after 
he was ordered to hoe corn, when he destroyed the corn and pre- 
served the weeds : and finished by throwing his hoe into the river, 
and declaring it was a business only fit for squaws, and not for war- 
riors. By this conduct, founded on a profound knowledge of the 
Indian character, he gained the applause of the savages, and was 
adopted by them into their tribe. He remained with them for some 
time, and until ransomed by the colony of Massachusetts. He was 
afterwards accustomed to declare that he experienced far better 
treatment during this captivity than it was usual for prisoners of 
war to receive even among civilized nations. 

When the French war began, in 1754, Stark, who had already 
won a high reputation as a scout, obtained the commission of Second 
Lieutenant in a company of rangers. It is not our purpose to follow 
him in detail through that contest, though it afforded scope for many 
gallant deeds, and was the school in which the leaders of the Revo- 
lution were very generally trained. We shall merely glance at the 
prominent events in which Stark took part. The first campaign 
passed without any transactions of importance. In the succeeding 
year he was in the desperate fight near Fort Edward, in which 
Baron Dieskau, the Commander of the French, was mortally wound- 
3d. In January, 1757, Stark, Avith his superior, Major Rogers, and 
about seventy men, was sent out on a scouting expedition to Lake 
Champlain, with orders, if possible, to cut off the supplies from 
Crown Point to Ticonderoga. The party captured a few sleighs 
between the two forts, but most of the convoy escaped, and the 
alarm being given, a detachment from the garrison of Ticonderoga 
arrested the rangers in their retreat. A stubborn and bloody con- 
flict ensued. Major Rogers, who had brought on them the ambush, 
by refusing Stark's suggestion to return to Fort Edward by a 
new route, being twice wounded, was about to surrender, but to this 
his more heroic Lieutenant would not listen, and, by maintaining 
the fight until dusk. Stark managed to effect his escape. Marching 
all night through the woods, the little army reached Lake George 
the next morning ; but here, v/orn out by cold, fatigue, and loss of 
blood, they gave up the march in despair. Stark alone maintained 
his spirits, and bore up against physical depression. Accoutring 
himself with snow shoes, he started for Fort Edward, a distance of 
forty miles, and arrived there the same evening, an almost incredible 
feat for one who had fought for most of the preceding day, and 
marched all of the preceding night. Sleighs were hastily despatched 
38 






tUbj 



298 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

for the suiferers, who, on the ensuing day, arrived in safety. For 
his gallantry on this occasion, Stark was rewarded with the rank of 
Captain. Not long after, by his judicious conduct in refusing liquor 
to his troops on St. Patrick's day, he saved Fort Edward, in a night 
attack made by the French garrison of Fort Ticonderoga. His 
regiment, during this campaign, was ordered to Halifax, but an 
attack of the small pox prevented him accompanying it. 

In the year 1758, occurred the disgraceful repulse of General 
Abercrombie from before Fort Ticonderoga. The expedition, at 
first successful, appeared to be attended with misfortunes from the 
hour of Lord Howe's death, a young nobleman of great promise, and 
who had rendered himself peculiarly dear to the provincials. He 
h^.d imbibed a friendship for Stark. The latter supped with him 
the night before his death, and the conversation turned chiefly on 
the expected battle, and the mode of attack. It was the duty of the 
rangers to precede the main army, and drive in the outlying parties 
of the enemy : and the last observations, at this supper, were on the 
order given to Stark's regiment, to carry a bridge on their route 
early the next morning. The bridge was found strongly defended 
by Canadians and Indians, but, at a vigorous charge, the enemy 
fled. Lord Howe, marching at the head of his column, came across 
a part of the advanced guard of the foe, which had lost its way in 
the forest, and, on the first fire, fell. His loss was so much regretted, 
that the General Court of Massachusetts appropriated two hundred 
and fifty pounds to erect a monument for him in Westminster Abbey. 
Lord Howe was the elder brother of Sir WiUiam Howe, and an 
illegitimate cousin to the King. His untimely fate, though at first 
deplored, saved him, in the end, from taking up arms against his 
old companions, during the war of the Revolution. 

After this event the army moved towards Ticonderoga, though 
with such criminal delay, that the enemy had time to entrench them- 
selves behind a breast-work of trees, which the English found 
impregnable to assault, though they stormed them several times 
with great fury. On this bloody and disastrous day there fell of the 
British army six hundred killed, while nearly fifteen hundred were 
wounded. General Abercrombie now retreated to the south end of 
Lake George. At the close of the campaign Stark went home on a 
furlough, and was married to Elizabeth Page. In the spring he 
returned to the army, now commanded by General Amherst, and 
was present at the capture of Ticonderoga and Crown Point. His 
military services in the royal cause may be said to have terminated 
with this campaign. With other provincial officers, he had become 



JOttN STARK. 



»09 



indignant at the arrogance exhibiDed by the young Englishmen of 
the same rank with himself, but of infinitely less experience. He 
accordingly resigned, but carried with him the esteem of General 
Amherst, who promised him that he should resume his rank in the 
army whenever he chose to rejoin it. If the war had continued, 




GENERAL ABERCKOMEIE'S ARMY CROSSING LAKE GEORGE. 



Stark might probably have again engaged in military life ; but after 
the fall of Canada, peace was soon concluded. 

In the quiet avocations of private life, Stark employed himself until 
the breaking out of the war of the Revolution. When that event was 
rendered inevitable, overtures were made to him by the royal gov- 
ernment : but he preferred to embark in behalf of the cause of the 
colonies. His elder brother, William Stark, was less patriotic, and 
was rewarded with the rank of Colonel in the -British army. On 
the eve of his departure, the latter strove to persuade his brother 
John to follow his example ; but the appeal was in vain : and the 
two brothers, who had drawn sustenance from the same maternal 
breast, parted, never to meet again except in mortal strife. Stark 
remained at home until the intelligence of the battle of Lexington 
reached him, when, flinging himself on his horse, he galloped to 
head quarters, almost without drawing rein. He was immediately 
appointed Colonel of one of the three regiments raised by the Pro- 
vincial Congress of New Hampshire. In the skirmish at Noddle's 



300 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

Island he took an active part. On the day of the battle of Bunker 
Hill, after General Ward had, at last, consented to reinforce the 
troops under Prescott, Stark was ordered to march, with the New 
Hampshire regiments, tc the scene of expected strife, which he did 
leisurely, arriving just in time for the battle, with his men as fresh 
•d'cA eager as if they had not come a mile. His post was at the* 
rail-fence, which extended, it will be remembered, from the road 
down to the river Mystic ; and the fire of his troops was so deadly, 
that, of the companies opposed to him, a royal officer declared, after 
the battle, some had but eight or nine, some only three or four men 
left. When it became necessary to retreat, he drew off his troops 
in good order. During the siege of Boston, he remained posted with 
his regiment at Winter Hill, and, on the evacuation of the city, his 
were among the New England troops that followed Washington to 
New York. 

Stark did not, however, remain to participate in the misfortunes 
of Long Island, having been detached, in May, to join the American 
army in Canada. He served with distinction through the northern 
campaign of that year, after which he was ordered to rejoin Wash- 
ington, now retreating through the Jerseys. He arrived at the camp 
of the Commander-in-chief on the 20th of December, 1776, just in 
time to participate in the victory at Trenton, when he led the van- 
guard of the right wing, under Sullivan. He was at the battle of 
Assunpink also, as well as at that of Princeton, remaining with 
Washington until the latter had established himself in winter quar- 
ters at Morristown. During the dark crisis that witnessed these 
l)attles, Stark had been of essential service, by inducing the New 
Hampshire troops, whose terms of service had expired on the 1st of 
January, to re-enlist for six weeks ; and now, when the campaign 
for the winter was over, and his presence could be spared, he 
hastened back to his native state in order to recruit the ranks of his 
regiment. His popularity speedily enabled him to do so with 
entire success ; but having heard of the promotion of some junior 
officers over his head, he threw up his commission in disgust. The 
feeling was a natural one, and can scarcely be reprehended, espe- 
cially as he did not allow it to interfere with the services of his sons 
in the cause of freedom. He signified, also, his intention to take the 
field if any emergency should arise in which his country should 
demand his aid. In this conduct there was perhaps nothing of the 
self-sacrificing enthusiasm of the true heroic character ; but neither 
was there anything different from what might be expected of even 
a good patriot, with the ordinary weaknesses of humanity. It is, 



JOHN STARK. 



301 



perhaps, difficult to decide in cases like that of Stark, between what 
is due to personal dignity, and what is due to country. 




JOHN LANGDON. 



The rapid approach of Burgoyne, however, in the autumn of the 
same year, brought Stark again into the field. Alarmed at the inroad 
of the enemy, the inhabitants of the New Hampshire grants declared 
to the New Hampshire Committee of Safety, that, unless they could 
receive succor, they should be compelled to abandon the country 
and seek a refuge east of the Connecticut River. This intelligence 
aroused the public spirit of New Hampshire. Measures of relief to 
the inhabitants of the grants were immediately adopted. John 
Langdon, a merchant of Portsmouth, took the lead in this move- 
ment. Finding some members of the Assembly disposed to hesitate, 
because the public credit was exhausted, and there was no perceptible 
means of relieving it, he addressed the house in these memorable 
words: "I have three thousand dollars in hard money; I will 



302 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

pledge my plate for three thousand more ; I have several hogsheads 
of Tobago rum, which shall be sold for the most it will bring. They 
are at the service of the state. If we succeed in defending our fire- 
sides and homes, I may be remunerated. Our old friend Stark, who 
so nobly maintained the honor of our state at Bunker Hill, may be 
safely entrusted with the conduct of the enterprise, and we will check 
the progress of Burgoyne." • 

At these noble words there was no longer any despondency. The 
patriotic enthusiasm of Langdon infused itself into every portion of 
the house: the militia were called out and formed into two brigades; 
and a portion of them, being placed under the command of Stark, 
were ordered to stop the progress of the enemy on the western 
frontier. Stark accepted this command on condition of not being 
obliged to join the main army; but allowed to lie on the skirts of the 
foe, exercise his own discretion as to his movements, and account 
to none but the authorities of New Hampshire. His terms being 
acceded to, he marched at once to Manchester, twenty miles to the 
north of Bennington. Here he was met by General Lincoln, whom 
Schuyler, then in command of the northern army, had sent to conduct 
the militia to the Hudson. Stark, however, refused to go, alleging 
his discretionary powers, and arguing that it was wiser to harass the 
enemy's rear than to concentrate the whole army in his front. On 
this, Lincoln applied to Congress, who passed a resolution of censure 
on Stark's conduct, as destructive of military subordination ; at the 
same time they directed him to conform to the rules which other 
general officers of the militia were subject to when called out at the 
expense of the United States. 

However prejudicial as an example, Stark's insubordination might 
be, his determination to harass the enemy's rear was wise, as events 
soon proved. Burgoyne had already begun to feel the scarcity df 
provisions. Hoping to supply himself from the surrounding country, 
he determined to send out a strong foraging party ; and for this 
purpose he despatched Colonel Baum with six hundred men in the 
direction of Bennington. Stark, who had just arrived at the latter 
place, hearing of the advance of this expedition, immediately sent 
out Colonel Gregg to check it, while he proceeded to rally the 
neighboring militia. The following morning he moved forward to 
the support of Gregg, whom he met retreating, and the enemy within 
a mile of him. Stark halted promptly and prepared for battle. But 
the enemy instead of attacking him, began to entrench himself 
in a highly favorable position, while an express was hurried off to 
Burgoyne for reinforcements. Stark, at first, endeavored to draw 



JOHN STARK. 303 

the enemy from his ground, but faiUng in this, fell back about a 
mile, leaving only a small force to skirmish with the foe. This was 
done with such success that thirty of the British, with two Indian 
chiefs, their allies, were killed or wounded, without any loss on the 
part of the assailants ; a happy augury of the more decisive conflict 
yet to come. 

» The ensuing day, the 15th of August, 1777, proved rainy, but 
amid the pelting storm, the enemy worked laboriously on his en- 
trenchments, more and more intimidated by the hostile appearance 
of the inhabitants. He^had chosen his ground with admirable skill. 
The German troops were posted on a rising ground at a bend of the 
Wollamsac, a tributary of the Hoosac, and on its northern bank : 
while a corps of tories was entrenched on the opposite side of the 
stream, and nearly in front of the German battery. The river wound 
backwards and forwards several times, before it reached Stark's 
camp, but was fordable in all places. The militia under Stark, who 
beheld the enemy entrenching himself more strongly, all through 
the 15th, began, at last, to grow impatient, particularly a detachment 
from Berkshire county, headed by their clergyman. These men, to- 
wards daylight of the 1 6th, waited on the General and declared that 
if he did not lead them to fight, they would never turn out again. 
*' Do you wish to march then," said Stark, " while it is dark and 
rainy?" "No," replied the clergyman, who was the spokesma^n 
" Then," retorted Stark, " if the Lord should once more give us sun- 
shine, and I do not give you figh-ting enough, I will never ask you 
to come again." 

It was three o'clock in the afternoon on the 16th, before the 
weather would permit the attack to be made.. The plan of battle, 
proposed by Stark, and agreed to in a council of war was this. Col. 
Nichols, with two hundred men, was to assail the rear of the ene- 
my's left ; while Colonel Herrick, with three hundred men, was to 
fall on the rear of their right, the two Colonels to form a junction 
before beginning the assault. In order to divert the attention of the 
foe, however, Colonels Hubbard and Stickney were deputed to ad- 
vance with two hundred men on their right and one hundred in 
front. Stark himself moved slowly forward in front, until he heard 
the rattle of Nichols's musketry, when, ordering his men to cheer, 
he rushed on the tories. The action soon became general on all sides. 
Neither the Germans nor the loyahsts could assist one another, for 
each had work enough on their own hands. Attacked m front and 
rear, and with an impetuosity they had little expected, the enemy 
scarcely knew what to do, yet still fought desperately on. In a few 



304 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



minutes the struggle had become a general melee. The entrench 
ments blazed with fire ; .the shouts of the combatants rose over the 
roar of the guns ; and the colors of the German troops, firmly planted 
on the battery, floated, for a long time, unharmed. The smoke of 
battle gradually grew thicker and darker, around the scene. The 
Indian allies of the enemy had fled at the beginning of the battle, 
disheartened by finding themselves assailed in their rear; but the reg- 
ulars dauntlessly maintained their ground, meeting the assaults of the 
Americans with the push of the bayonet, and girdling their little 
entrenchments with the dead. But if the foe fought bravely, the as- 
sailants fought not less so ! Hotter and hotter waxed the fight as that 
summer sun began to decline. The roar of musketry ; the shouts of 




BATTLE OF BBNNINGTOIf. 



the excited combatants ; the groans and cries of the dying, rose in 
terrible discord. It seemed as if the elements were joining in the 



JOHN STARK. 305 

commotion. To use the words of Stark himself, it was Hke one 
continued clap of thunder ! At last the tories gave way, and were 
forced from their breast-work : then, after a desperate, but fruitless 
charge of their cavalry, totally routed. They fled, leaving their 
artillery and baggage to the victors. 

The militia now dispersed for plunder, when suddenly intelligence 
was brought to Stark, that a large reinforcement of the British army 
was advancing, and was within two miles. This force was com- 
manded by Colonel Breyman, and had been sent in reply to Baum's 
express. The rain of the last two days had delayed its march, op- 
portunely for the Americans. At its approach the fugitives under 
Baum rallied, and, as most of Stark's men had abandoned him, the 
victory just gained, for a while seemed about to be snatched from 
his grasp. But a fresh body of Americans, arriving from Benning- 
ton at this crisis, saved the day. Still, the battle was contested until 
sunset, when the enemy took to flight, leaving Baum mortally 
wounded on the field. The spoils of victory were four pieces of 
brass cannon, a quantity of German swords, several hundred stand 
of arms, eight brass drums, and about seven hundred prisoners. Two 
hundred and seven of the enemy were found dead on the scene of 
the struggle ; while the loss of the Americans was but thirty killed 
and forty wounded. The battle of Bennington afl*ords the only 
instance during the war, in which a body of militia carried en- 
trenchments manned by veteran troops and defended with artillery. 
The number of the assailants, it is true, considerably exceeded those 
of the enemy. The victory, notwithstanding, was one of the most 
wonderful of the war. 

Congress on hearing the results of the battle, overlooked the dis- 
respect of Stark, in failing to notify them of the victory, and passed 
an unanimous vote of thanks to him and to his brave troops ; at the 
same time, with but a single dissenting voice, they raised him to the 
rank of Brigadier-General in the continental army. Nor was the reward 
disproportionate to his services. The moral effect of the battle of 
Bennington was even greater than its physical results. Burgoyne 
had trusted to Baum's expedition to obtain a supply of provisions, 
but, in consequence of the defeat, he was forced to wait until sup- 
plies could be sent from Ticonderoga. This delayed his progress 
and afforded time for the Americans to prepare the net in which they 
afterwards enclosed him. The Baroness Riedesel, wife of one ot 
Burgoyne's Generals, declares that the defeat of Baum " paralyzed 
at once the operations of the British army.'' The victory at Ben- 
nington, moreover, raised the drooping spirits of the Americans. 
39 AA* 



306 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

Washington had foreseen that this would be the result of any advaa 
tage gained over the enemy, however inconsiderable. Writing txj 
Schuyler as early as the 17th of July, and when so many were de 
sponding in consequence of the loss of Ticonderoga, he used these 
remarkable words : " I trust General Burgoyne's army will meet, 
sooner or later, an effectual check ; and, as I suggested before, that 
the success he has had will precipitate his ruin. From your accounts, 
he appears to be pursuing that line of conduct, which, of all others, 
is most favorable to us. / mean acting in detachment. This con- 
duct will certainly give room for enterprise on our part, and expose 
his parties to great hazard. Could we be so happy as to cut off one 
of them, though it should not exceed four, five, or six hundred men, 
it would inspirit the people and do away much of their present 
anxiety. In such an event they would lose sight of past misfortunes, 
and urged at the same time by a regard for their own security, they 
would fly to arms and afford every aid in their power." Memora- 
ble and prophetic words ! 

After the victory of Bennington, Stark proceeded to the American 
camp, where Gates had been now promoted to the chief command. 
On the 18th of September, however, the term of Stark's troops ex- 
pired, and notwithstanding he urged them to re-enlist, they refused, 
and began their return march. The next day the battle of Sara- 
toga occurred, before Stark, with his militia, had proceeded ten 
miles. At the sound of the firing, some of the soldiers were for re- 
tracing their steps, but the reports ceasing, the whole body continued 
its homeward journey. ' Stark, at this time, had not yet heard of 
his promotion, but the intelligence of it arrived in a few days. He 
now recruited a considerable force and hastened to place his little 
army in Burgoyne's rear, contending that, if the militia were but 
true to themselves, the British General would be forced to surrender 
at discretion. Gates thought it wiser, however, not to drive his ene- 
my to despair ; and accordingly consented to an honorable capitula- 
tion. 

The campaign being over. Stark returned to his native state, and 
occupied himself industriously in procuring recruits and supplies for 
the succeeding year. A short time after he reached home. Congress 
ordered him to prepare for a winter expedition against Canada. 
This was the celebrated project, conceived by the Board of War, 
without the knowledge or advice of Washmgton, and intended to 
detach LaFayette from the Commander-in-chief Stark repaired to 
Albany, ahd subsequently visited Vermont, New Hampshire, and 
Massachusetts, to forward preparations, but on his return, early in 



JOHN STARK. 307 

the succeeding year, 1778, he was assigned the command of the 
northern department. The duties he- was now called on to perform 
he always spoke of as the most unpleasant of his life. He had a 
large frontier to protect and but few troops to do it with ; while he 
was surrounded by a sort of licensed tories, " in the midst of spies, 
peculators and public defaulters. He labored to reform the abuses 
in the department, and succeeded like most reformers. Those who 
were detected, cursed him, and their friends complained." In Octo- 
ber he was ordered to Rhode Island, a command which he obeyed 
with alacrity. Here his duty, in connexion with General Gates, 
was to gain information of the plan of the enemy and guard against 
invasion. During the winter, he returned, for a short period, to New 
Hampshire, in order to raise recruits. In the spring, rejoining his 
post, he was deputed by General Gates to examine the shores of Nar- 
ragansett Bay on the west side, from Providence to Point Judith, and 
on the east side, from Providence to Mount Hope. This was a ser- 
vice requiring the utmost vigilance^ and a system of constant and 
perilous espionage on the enemy, then at Newport. Finally, in No- 
vember, the British left that town, on which Stark immediately took 
possession. 

He was now ordered to Washington's head-quarters in New Jer- 
sey ; and in the winter again returned to New Hampshire for recruits 
and supplies. He arrived at West Point, on his return, a few days be- 
fore the treason of Arnold, and passing on, joined his division at Liberty 
Pole, New Jersey. He was one of the council of war that tried and 
condemned Andre. During the autumn, at the head of twenty-five 
hundred men, and with a large train of wagons and teams, he made 
a descent towards York Island, pillaging the country of provisions 
to the very verge of Morrisania and Kingsbridge ; the British, sus- 
pecting some subtle design to be concealed by his movements, did 
not interfere. During the winter. Stark was seized with an illness 
which forced him to apply for leave of absence ; but, in the spring 
of 1781, his health being recruited, he was assigned the command of 
the northern department for the second time. Unpleasant as the 
task was, he resolved to do his duty. The country was infested 
with the same species of spies and traitors who had annoyed him 
in 1778; and also by brigands, or armed bodies of refugees, who 
plnndered at will, and even carried off the inhabitants into Canada as 
prisoners. Shortly after Stark's arrival, one of these parties was ar- 
rested within his lines. The leader produced a commission tis a British 
Lieutenant, but as he had been a refugee from that section, and his 
practices were known, Stark summoned aboard of officers and procured 



308 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

the condemnation of the man as a spy. The sentence was sternl}f 
executed, notwithstanding the excitement it created. The friends 
and connexions of the sufferer in Albany even appUed to Washing- 
ton, complaining that, being a British officer, his death would be 
made the subject of retaliation. The Commander-in-chief demanded 
a copy of the proceedings in the case, which was sent, but here the 
matter dropped. The effect of Stark^s bold conduct, however, was 
to put a stop to brigandage. From this period to the close of the 
war nothing of interest in his life remains to be noticed. When 
peace had been concluded, and the army was about to be disbanded, 
he exerted his influence, in opposition to the celebrated Newburgh 
letters, to allay discontent and prevent insubordination. 

Stark now retired to his farm, where he lived in quiet and plenty, 
until the 8th of May, 1822, when he terminated his days at the ad- 
vanced age of ninety-four. His character we have endeavored to 
pourtray faithfully in this short memoir. He was a man of strong 
talents and of a resolute will, Miough of little mental cultivation, 
and a hard, unyielding disposition. His manners were frank and open, 
but eccentric. He was kind but stern in his social relations, and firm, 
though not chivalric, in his patriotism. His influence over the mili- 
tia, arising from a keen insight into their character, was, perhaps, 
superior to that of any other general officer in the Revolution. It is 
singular that, though participating in so many battles, he was never 
wounded. 

His remains are deposited on a rising ground, near the river Mer- 
rimac, visible four or five miles, both up and down the stream. His 
family has erected a granite obelisk on the spot, with the simple, 
but all-sufficient inscription, "Major-General Stark." 





HORATIO GATES 



HE most fortunate, and at the 
same time unfortunate of the Ge- 
nerals of the Revolution, Horatio 
Gatfes, was, like St. Clair, Lee 
and Conway, a foreigner by birth. 
Gates was born in England, in 
the year 1728. He was one of 
those individuals whom fortune, 
rather than ability, makes famous. 
With little original talent, but 
great self-sufficiency ; more of the 
fine soldier than the true General ; 
elegant but shallow; chivalrous 
in manner rather than in fact; 
captious, unjust, stooping to low 
arts to rise ; yet courteous, digni 
fied, honorable according to ordi 
nary standards ; a fair tactician, and a brave man ; a soldier who 

309 




310 THE HEROES 0¥ THE REVCILUTIOIN. 

bore misfortune better than success ; his character presents itself to 
the annaUst as merely that of a common-place commander, without 
one atom of the hero in its composition. A train of fortunate cir- 
cumstances presented victory before him, and though he had the 
genius to secure it, he had none beyond that. Had he been more 
self-poised he might have proved a greater man. But, unlike Wash- 
ington and Greene, success destroyed his equilibrium of mind, and 
precipitated him into acts of presumptuous folly. His portrait, as 
seen on the Burgoyne medal, is eminently characteristic. The finely 
chiselled profile, and graceful flow of the hair, contrasted with the 
low and retreating forehead, conjure up vividly before the mind the 
idea of elegant mediocrity ! 

At a very early age. Gates entered the British army with the 
commission of an Ensign. He served with credit in this subordinate 
capacity, gradually rising by honorable promotion. At the siege of 
Martinico he acted as Aid-de-camp to the British General ; and sub- 
sequently, about the year 1748, was stationed at Halifax, in Nova 
Scotia. When the French war broke out in America, he came to this 
country as a Captain of foot, and was present with the unfortunate 
Gen. Braddock at the battle of Monongahela. In this action he re- 
ceived a wound which, for some time, unfitted him for service. At 
the conclusion of peace, in 1763, he settled in Virginia, adopting the 
life of a planter, and rendering himself popular by his elegant man- 
ners, his hospitality, and his general intelligence. 

When the difficulties between the colonies and Great Britain be- 
gan to assume a threatening aspect. Gates embraced "the side of his 
adopted country with enthusiasm. His military reputation, like that 
of all the retired officers in America, who had served in the royal 
army, stood very high : nor was this to be wondered at, for, with, 
the exception of a few individuals, who, like Washington, Putnam 
and Stark, had held commissions in the provincial regiments, the 
ignorance of military affairs was almost universal. It will be found 
that a large proportion of the higher posts in the continental line, at 
its first formation, was given to officers bred in the royal army : — 
witness Lee, Montgomery, Mercer and St. Clair ! In this favored 
class was Gates, who received the appointment of Adjutant-General, 
with the rank of Brigadier. He immediately joined the camp at 
Cambridge. His appointment was, in part, the result of Washing- 
ton's recommendations. But he had not been long at head-quarters, 
before he made an application to be received in the line, and being 
refused, from that hour he became secretly hostile to the Command- 
er-in-chief. With much that was noble and generous in his compo- 



HORATIO GATES. 311 

sition, Gates mingled a petty jealousy, the consequence of excessive 
self-conceit, which marred an otherwise chivalrous character, and 
was the cause of all those subsequent errors that ruined him in the 
eyes of his cotemporaries, and disgraced him in those of posterity. 

In 1777, Gates received the appointment of Commander-in-chief on 
the northern frontier. This gift he obtained, through favoritism, and at 
the expense of Schuyler; for even at this early period. Gates was 
the idol of a faction secretly averse to Washington. The elements 
of this faction, as revealed by subsequent developments, were of the 
most opposite and unexpected character. On the one side the pa- 
triotic Samuel Adams, misled by the violence of his local feelings, 
disliked the appointment of Washington, because made at the ex- 
pense of Massachusetts ; on the other. General Mifflin, of Pennsyl- 
vania, angry at the refusal of the Commander-in-chief to elevate him 
and his friend Gates at the expense of others, secretly brooded over 
revenge. The two, exercising their influence, both in and out of 
Congress, already raised a powerful faction, the purposes of which, 
though masked from the public, were well understood among them- 
selves. To depreciate Washington and his friends, while, at the 
same time, they advanced their own interests, was the aim of this 
cabal. Nor, for a time, did they despair of success. They seem to 
have hesitated, at first, between Lee and Gates as a substitute for 
the Commander-in-chief, but finally, when the former was made pri- 
soner, to have united on the latter. As yet, however, they care- 
fully concealed their designs. When Schuyler fell under censure 
in the winter of 1777, they adroitly procured the nomination of 
Gates to his place ; but, when Schuyler was proved innocent, they 
thought it most prudent to consent to his restoration, as they found 
themselves not yet strong enough to prevent it. Hence, on the fall 
of Ticonderoga, they seized the occasion to misrepresent Schuyler, 
and by covering him with odium, procure from Congress the exal- 
tation of their favorite. Accordingly, on the 20th of August, 1777, 
Gates arrived at the camp at Stillwater, and received the command 
from the hands of his misused predecessor. There is a dignity in 
Schuyler's words on this occasion which is touchingly eloquent. 
After describing the measures he had taken to embarrass Burgoyne, 
and foretelling the success that would follow them, he remarked, 
^* but the palm of victory is denied me, and it is left to you. General, 
to reap the fruits of my labors." And from that hour, as we have 
seen, he continued as unremitting in his exertions as if he was the 
iniurer mstead of the injured. 

Gate^ ^ jnti'iuGa at Stilhva^er. where he daily received reinforce- 



312 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

merits, until Burgoyne had crossed the Hudson, on the 14th of Sep- 
tember, when, advancing about two miles in front of the village, he 
took possession of Behmis Heights, a range of hills sweeping inland 
from the river, and presenting a convex front, like a bent bow, towards 
,he enemy. Here he threw up an entrenched camp, extending from 
a defile on the river Hudson, to a steep height on the west, about 
three quarters of a mile distant. The main fortifications were at 
the defile, where Urates commanded the right wing in person. The 
Massachusetts regiments and a New York regiment under James 
Livingston, occupied the centre, which was a plain, covered in front, 
at the distance of a quarter of a mile, by a wooded ravine. The left, 
composed of Poor's brigade, of Morgan's riflemen, and of a few- 
other regiments, was posted on the heights, and, together with the 
centre, formed a division under the command of General Arriold. 
Thus placed, the Americans presented a barrier to Burgoyne, which 
it was necessary for him to force before he could proceed. But con- 
fident of the valor of his veteran troops, the British General did not 
hesitate. On the morning of the nineteenth of September he formed 
his army in order of battle. His plan was worthy of his genius. 
Himself with the centre, and Frazer with the right wing were to 
make a circuitous route by two different roads, around the left of the 
Americans, and having attained this point to concentrate their forces 
and fall headlong on the Etstonished enemy. Generals Philips* and 
Riedesel, meantime, were to advance slowly along the river road, 
with the artillery, and within half a mile of the American fine, they 
were to pause and await two signal guns, announcing the attack on 
*he enemy's rear. After this they were to precipitate themselves on 
the defile and force their way through. 

But this plan of attack, so clever in arrangement, was destined to 
be less happy in its execution*. The keen foresight of Arnold detected 
the manoeuvre of Burgoyne, and sending to Gates, he begged for 
authority to assail the enemy's right in anticipation. That he might 
do so eftectually he solicited reinforcements. But Gates, fearful of 
an attack himself, refused to weaken his wing, though he gave per- 
mission for Arnold to send out Morgan to observe the enemy. Ac- 
cordingly that officer, with his gallant rifle corps, took a wide circuit 
on the American left, and soon came unexpectedly on the centre of 
the British, already nearly in a line with the entrenchments, and 
rapidly approaching Arnold's rear. A sharp skirmish ensued. At 
first the British were driven back, but it was only for a moment , 
soon, like an avalanche they burst on Morgan's little band, crashing 
it before them. Two officers and twenty privates fell into the hands 



HORATIO GATES. 313 

of the enemy, a disastrous beginning for the Americans. But Morgan 
himself escaping, retreated through the woods with the remains of his 
corps, and being reinforced by Dearborn's light infantry, re4;urned 
bravely to the conflict. Soon also, the regiments of Scammel and 
Cilley, composed of the redoubtable sons of New Hampshire, coming 
up, formed on the left of Morgan, and the whole, stimulating each 
other with cheers, poured down on the British regiments. Like vete- 
ran troops they restrained their fire until close upon the foe. A des- 
perate conflict ensued. Frazer, who had arrived with the right wing 
to succor Burgoyne, hurled his dauntless grenadiers on the American 
Une, intending to penetrate it : and so terrible was the onset that the 
troops were checked in full career, the whole front trembling under 
the shock, like a ship struck by a heavy sea. Opportunely at this 
moment, fresh reinforcements for the Americans arrived. The shock 
of the hostile battalions was awful. They reeled, swaying to and 
fro, and for a few minutes neither gave ground ! Sharp and inces- 
sant voUies of musketry, fiercer than the most experienced veterans 
had ever heard, rattled through the woods. At last the British 
grenadiers resorted to their bayonets, and then the Americans sul- 
lenly fell back. Arnold was not present in person, however, in this 
action, as some writers have asserted. Yet, as the distant roar of 
battle came to his ears, he chafed at the commands of Gates which 
kept him at head-quarters. Once, when they told him that victory 
still fluctuated, he exclaimed, " I will soon put an end to it," and 
would have galloped to the field, but Gates sternly ordered him to 
remain. His gallant troops, however, conscious of what he expected 
of them, fought as if under their leader's eye. 

The course of the battle had now brought the contending armies 
to the opposite sides of an oblong clearing, right in the heart 
of the woods. This open space contained about fifteen acres, 
and measured, perhaps, sixty rods across from east to west. The 
field sloped gently down towards the south and east. On its north 
was a thin grove of pines, and on its south a dense wood of 
oaks. At the upper extremity, sheltered within that open pine 
grove, were ranged the British ranks, their long line of splendid 
uniforms relieved by the glittering steel of their muskets, set- 
ting the foliage a-blaze with crimson. The Americans were 
drawn up in the thick forest at the lower end of the clearing, 
where they awaited the foe. For awhile the two parties stood 
watching each other. It was a welcome breathing spell foi 
both. The tattle had begun at noon, and it was now three in the 

40 BB 



S14 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

afternoon, so that the men were much fatigued, especially those who 
had been among the first to engage. Yet the deadly animosity of the 
foes was not lessened. Neither however, seemed eager to attack 
the other in his stronghold. The British awaited the onset of the 
Americans — ^the Americans resolved not to lose the advantage of 
their position. Thus, like two wary wrestlers about to engage in 
the ring, each party stood measuring its opponent's thews. 

At last the British, with a shout, rushed from their covert, and 
dashed across the clearing at the Americans. The latter waited until 
the enemy had half traversed the field, when they threw in a suc- 
cession of close and withering vollies. Th^ British staggered, and 
then again advanced. Another volley was now delivered by the 
Americans, and seeing that the assailants halted in confusion, the 
soldiers of Arnold sprang from their coverts, and with loud shouts 
poured down on the foe. The British fled. The Americans pursued. 
With wild huzzas they drove the British across the field and up to 
the very edge of the pine wood. But here received by a fire as deadly 
as their own, they recoiled in turn. Thus fluctuating forwards and 
backwards, charging up the ascent and driving in confusion down, 
the Americans, for some time, gained no permanent advantage. As 
fast as either side left its covert, the vollies of the other side checked 
it ; as fast as the assailing party fell back, the retreating one returned 
to the charge. But finally the British centre began to give way. At 
this critical moment, however, when the Americans regarded the 
day as won, a brigade of artillery emerged into the front of the ene- 
my. General Philips, with incredible exertions, had made his way 
from the plain below through the intervening woods, and the British, 
elated by this reinforcement, again rallied and drove the Americans 
a third time across the clearing. ,, 

The contest was now renewed more fiercely than ever. The one 
party was sanguine of success at last ; the other was stung to 
phrenzy by seeing victory snatched from its grasp. The Americans 
fled to their covert, but here paused, and pouring in two or three 
destructive vollies, drove the enemy back. Their leaders now 
sprang in front, and, calling on their troops to follow, led them, fired 
with rage and enthusiasm, up to the muzzles of the British cannon. 
In vain the clearing was swept by incessant discharges of musketry 
and artillery ; on over the open space, on through the groves of 
pines, on to the very guns of the enemy, rushed the Americans ! The 
artillerists fled from their pieces, or were bayonetted at their post. 
For a few moments the Americans were again victors. Seizing 
the ropes they attempted to drag oif the cannon; but the exertion 



HORATIO GATES. 315 

was too great. And now the British, recovering themselves, returned 
to the charge, and the refluent wave of battle again rolled over the 
clearing, and lashed the front of the forest in which the fugitives took 
shelter. Three times the Americans thus dashed at the enemy, 
drove him from his guns, and remained for a space, masters of the 
field ; three times the British, returning to the strife, succeeded in 
redeeming their pieces and beating their assailants back. The car- 
nage was meantime appalling. The oldest veterans from the Ger- 
man wars had seen nothing like it. Thirty-six of the forty-eight 
artillerists had fallen, besides every one of their officers, excepting 
only Lieutenant Hammond. The clearing was covered with nearly 
a thousand fallen and slain. Everywhere around, the trees were 
mangled by cannon balls, while whole limbs, cut off by the shot, 
frequently obstructed the path. 

The sun had now declined towards the west. His almost level 
beams, breaking through a gap in the woods, made luminous the 
sulphurous canopy that eddied to and fro over that field of blood, 
with every fluctuation of the battle. As his setting approached, the 
strife deepened. The British, rallying all their sti'ength for a last 
effort, again charged across the clearing ; while the Americans, 
reinforced by a fresh regiment, again repulsed them. Twilight 
brought no cessation to the struggle. Still the tide of battle surged 
to and fro over that little enclosure. Still the explosions of artillery, 
like successive eruptions of a volcano, shook the solid hills. At last 
darkness fell upon the scene. One by one the different corps ceased 
fighting. The noise of firing gradually subsided, continuing last on 
the extreme left of the Americans, where Colonel Jackson, with part 
of the Massachusetts troops, had penetrated almost to the enemy's 
rear. Finally the smoke began to lift from the open field, and 
eddy off, though long after the stars were shining calmly down into 
the clearing, the vapors still clung around the trees, and hung, like 
a white shroud over the piles of slain at the edges of the woods. 
As the evening advanced the whip-poor-will was heard, uttering his 
plaintive wail unseen ; and the British soldiers, to whom the melan- 
choly note was unknown, almost fancied it some sad spirit lamenting 
the dead. 

The British occupied the ground after the battle, and may, there- 
fore, be considered the victors. Yet their triumph was, in effect, a 
defeat ; for Burgoyne had failed in his original design, which was 
to force the American position. It is plain, from what we have 
narrated, that much of the glory of the day belonged to Arnold. 
(rates had scarcely issued an order. In fact, if the earnest request 



316 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



of Arnold had been attended to, and suitable reinforcements sent 
out, there is little doubt but that Burgoyne would have been 
totally defeated. Gates, however, acted with prudence, for he knew 
that a strong force was in his front, and to have materially weak- 
ened his own position, would probably have invited an assault. He 
seems to have felt, after the victory, that to Arnold belonged the 
real glory of the day ; but, instead of frankly acknowledging this, he 
meanly suppressed that General's name altogether in his despatches. 
The consequence was an open breach between the two officers, who 
had formerly been warm friends. It is impossible to extenuate the 
conduct of Gates. It evinced all that jealousy and littleness which 
is the true test of conscious inferiority. Not all his chivalrous 
behavior to the unfortunate Burgoyne can make us forget the mean- 
ness of his conduct to the heroic Arnold. 

The two armies remained watching each other until the 8th of 
October. On that day Burgoyne, at the head of fifteen hundred 




SUKRENDER OK BUK(inVNn 



men, executed a movement on the AniericLLii left, for the purpose ol 
covering an extensive forage. The resu.t was another colHsion be 
tweeu ths two armies. On this occasion Arnold was present, the here 



HORATIO GATES. 317 

of the fight. The British were repulsed with terrible slaughter and 
the loss of most of their artillery. Arnold, following them up in their 
retreat, stormed them in the entrenchments to which they had fled, 
and W6.S wounded when riding triumphantly into a sally port. In 
the night Burgoyne retired to a stronger camp. He next attempted 
to return to Canada. But Gates judiciously enclosing his rear, and 
his provisions failing, he capitulated on the 16th of October. By 
this surrender, more than five thousand prisoners, a park of artillery, 
seven thousand muskets, with an immense quantity of tents and 
military stores fell into the hands of the Americans. Nothing could 
exceed the delicacy with which Burgoyne was treated by his captor. 
Whatever may have been the faults of Gates, a want of courtesy 
was not among the number; and his graceful attentions almost made 
the English General forget his misfortunes. Nor must we be under- 
stood as denying to Gates any merit in the capitulation of Saratoga. 
However little he may have shared personally in the two battles of 
Behmis' Heights, the skill with which he managed his army, both 
before and after those contests, deserves high praise. In short, 
though not a great General, he was a skilful commander. 

The conquest of Burgoyne made the partizans of Gates dizzy with 
exultation. Hitherto the career of Washington had been attended 
principally by misfortune, the brilUant affairs of Trenton and Prince- 
ton forming the only exceptions. He had just lost a battle, by which 
the capital of the nation fell into the enemy's hands ; and though his 
defeat had been owing to circumstances beyond his control, many 
were not in a humor to make allowances for this ; and the most un- 
favorable comparisons were, in consequence, drawn by such persons, 
between him and the conqueror of Saratoga. The faction which 
had, from the first, secretly opposed his nomination now raised its 
bead openly and prepared to strike. It is impossible to beUeve that 
Gates himself was not in the secret of this cabal, or at least a sym- 
pathizer in its views, for he neglected to send Washington an account 
of his victory, but contented himself with reporting to Congress as 
if he had no superior officer. His neglect to do Arnold justice, and 
his insolence to the Commander-in-chief, place his character before 
us, we confess, in a more unfavorable light than it is generally re- 
garded. And how was his conduct to Washington retaliated? 
When misfortune visited Gates, and a fickle Congress was ready to 
■sacrifice him, the hero stepped in to save the victim, and not only 
preserved him from wrong, but soothed his injured vanity by the 
gentlest condolence. 

For the capture of Burgoyne, Gates was rewarded by Congress 



318 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



with a gold medal. A Board of War was also coustituted, at the 
head of which he was placed, with powers that rendered him inde- 




MEDAL PRESENTED BT CONGRESS TO GENERAL GATES. 



pendent of Washington. This Board now became the scene of the 
most abominable intrigues, all aimed at the same point, the removal 
of Washington, and the substitution of Gates in his place. It is 
supposed that the design of the cabal, which is known in history as 
the Conway faction, was to continue to annoy the Commander-in- 
chief, until, in some moment of spleen, he should resign his post 
One of the measures adopted to this end, was an expedition against 
Canada, which the Board resolved upon without consulting Washing- 
ton. The command of this enterprise was to be given to LaFayette, 
in hopes to detach him from the General-in-chief. But the plotters 
soon found that the Marquis was not to be turned from his allegiance, 
and in consequence the Canadian expedition was abandoned, chiefly 
because no longer useful in the way desired. The intrigues of the 
Conway faction were, soon after, discovered by General Cadwalader, 
who indignantly challenged Conway, and in the duel that followed, 
gave him a wound which was, at first, supposed mortal. In the near 
expectation of death, Conway, stung by remorse, addressed a letter to 
Washington, in which he acknowledged his crime, begged the par- 
don of that august personage, and declared that, in his eyes, the 
Commander-in-chief was "the great and good man." Conway sub- 
sequently recovered, but did not remain in America. He went to 
France, where he died. The cabal coming by these means to H^ht, 



HORATIO GATES. 319 

8uch was the indignation of the people, and so odious did its very 
nanae become, that its members strove to conceal their participation 
in its intrigues, and, in a great measure, succeeded. The conduct of 
the people in this affair is a high testimony to their virtue and gene- 
ral accuracy of judgment. They knew that Washington was the 
man, above all others, to defend their liberties ; and knew it, by that 
instinct, which always guides the mass to the appreciation of the 
true hero. Defeat and misrepresentation failed utterly to lessen their 
confidence in him, notwithstanding that many of the ablest minds in 
the country were shaken in their faith. The result, in the end, proved 
their superior discernment. We question whether the people ever 
mistakes a truly great man. There seems, as it were, an electric 
sympathy between the soul of the true hero and them, which 
reveals him to them at once ! 

On the 1 3th of June, 1780, after the news of the fall of Charleston, 
Gates was called to the command of the southern army. This choice 
was made without consulting Washington, and the sagacious mind of 
that leader appears to have immediately foreboded the result. Gates 
hastened to assume his new post. The southern army, at that time, 
numbered bat fifteen hundred men, and was commanded by the 
Baron de Kalb. It was near Hillsborough, in North Carolina, when 
overtaken by Gates. That personage reached camp in the highest 
spirits. He seemed, in the eyes of unprejudiced observers, to regard 
his name as sufficient alone to paralyze the foe. He began his new 
career by a fatal blunder. The country in which he was to operate 
was one especially favorable for cavalry, yet, instead of assisting 
Colonels Washington and White in recruiting their troops, he cava- 
lierly dismissed both those officers, and set out on his march with 
only Armand's corps. On the footsteps of this first, he committed 
another capital error. Two roads lay open to reach the foe ; one, 
the most direct, over a desolate country ; the other, more circuitous, 
through comparatively fertile districts ; yet he chose the former. If 
his army had been composed solely of veterans, long inured to pri- 
vation, perhaps the shorter road would have been the best. But as 
all the accessions to his force were of raw troops, he should have 
taken the longer and more easy route, both that he might have time 
to discipline them, and that the^r might be kept in the highest possi- 
t)le condition. Gates appears to have fancied that it was only 
necessary for him to find the enemy. Of the possibility of defeat he 
never thought. It had been made a subject of reproach against him 
by captious critics, that he had starved out Burgoyne, when it would 
have been as easy to have conquered him outright; and the victor 



320 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

was resolved not to give occasion again for such strictures. He 
would, like Caesar, write " veni, vidi, vici," and then the measuie 
of his glory would be full ! 

The Baron de Kalb would have been the guardian angel of the 
inflated General, if the self-sufficiency of the one could have paid 
even ordinary deference to the grey hairs of the other. The Baron 
recommended a cautious policy, and was in favor of the more cir- 
cuitous route. The result verified his predictions. The troops 
were nearly famished for food ; they had scarcely any bread, or even 
meal ; a few cattle, caught wild in the woods, afforded the chief 
sustenance. Owing to the unwholesome swamps they traversed, as 
well as to the want of proper nourishment, a train of fatal diseases 
followed the army, destroying many of the men, and debihtating 
more. At last Gates reached Clermont, from which place Lord 
Rawdon withdrew on his approach. It would be unjust not to 
allow that the American General had displayed the highest energy 
in the prosecution of his march. He had indeed proved himself 
above yielding to difficulties. But, at the same time, he had shame- 
fully neglected all precautionary measures. Though joined by nume- 
rous bodies of militia, whom his renown brought to his standard, he 
made scarcely any effort to train them, and left the discipline of the 
camp to take care of itself. He spared neither the health nor the 
spirits of his men. In short, he pressed forward as if he had but 
one object in view, to catch the enemy, if possible, before he could 
shut himself up in Charleston. 

Lord Rawdon had, at first, retired upon Camden. To the vicinity 
of this place Gates now followed. On his approach, however, 
Rawdon, instead of retreating further, advanced to Lynches Creek, 
about fifteen miles in front ; and, for four days, the armies continued 
watching each other, separated only by this slender stream. At the 
end of this period, a movement of Gates against the enemy's left, 
induced Rawdon to retire on Camden once more. Gates, slowly 
advancing, took post at Rudgely's mill, which the enemy had just 
abandoned. Here he was joined by General Stevens, at the head 
of seven hundred Virginia militia ; and from this point he detached 
four hundred regulars to reinforce Sumpter, a fatal error, unless he 
considered Rawdon sure to retreat before him. If he had been 
governed by the same sagacious views of the nature of the contest 
as Lord CornwaUis, he would, instead of weakening his army, have 
waited until it was strengthened by further reinforcements, satisfied 
that his enemy, and not himself, would lose by delay. CornwaUis, 
who had meantime arrived at Camden, saw this, and resolved ta 



HORATIO GATES. 321 

seek Gates, in order to give him instant battle. He had indeed but 
two thousand men, while the American General had nearly tour ; 
but the latter was in the midst of his resources, while the former 
was far from them. Moreover, the British army was composed 
chiefly of regulars, that of Gates mostly of militia. Accordingly, on 
the 16th of August, the British General marched out from Camden. 
Gates, still confident of success, had left Rudgely's mills the same 
day, on his way to Saunder's Creek, seven miles from Camden. 
The two armies, to their mutual surprise, met about one o'clock at 
night. Each took some prisoners and learned the motives of the 
other; when, by mutual consent, they drew off and awaited the 
dawn. At daybreak the battle began. The story of that melan- 
choly day we have already told at sufficient length. Gates, on the 
eve of the contest, appears to have hesitated for the first time. He 
called a council of his officers, and desired to know what was best 
to be done. For some time no one spoke, but finally General 
Stevens remarked, " that it was now too late to retreat." This was 
all that was said. The silence continuing. Gates broke up the unsat- 
isfactory council with the words, " then we must fight — gentlemen, 
please to take your posts." 

After a vain attempt to redeem his errors, by rallying the fugitive 
militia, the defeated commander gave. the reins to his horse and 
galloped from the fatal field. He has been censured for not remain- 
ing to share death with the brave de Kalb. But, when Gates left 
the scene of disaster, he believed the rout final, the thick fog com- 
pletely concealing from his sight the Maryland and Delaware 
regiments. Accompanied only by a few friends, the prostrate con- 
queror fled to Charlotte, eighty miles distant, without dismounting. 
Soon after he continued his flight to Salisbury, and subsequently to 
Hillsborough. He left, however, Smallwood and Gist at the former 
place to collect the dispersed continentals who had survived the 
fight ; for little hope existed of rallying the militia, that species of 
force always making the best of their way home after a disaster. 
At Hillsborough, a hundred and eighty miles from the scene of battle, 
he felt himself in comparative safety. Here, with a resolution that 
shods a momentary gleam across his darkening fortunes, he began 
im.mediately to collect reinforcements, expressing his determination 
not to abandon the contest, but return and face the foe. He had 
partially succeeded in restoring confidence, when, on the 5th of 
October, he was removed from his command, and an inquiry ordered 
into his conduct. Congress now called on Washington, to nominate 
his successor. The Commander-in-chief promptly replied by select- 
41 



322 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

iiig General Greene. The new commander as promptly began his 
journey, and arrived in the camp of Gates on the 2nd of December, 
where he was received by the fallen General with a dignity and 
fortitude which extorts admiration. Greene, on his part, with deli- 
cate forbearance, paid his predecessor the compliment of continuing 
his orders of the day. 

The reverse of Gates is one of those mysterious events which affect 
the mind with a profound sense of retributive justice. Great as had 
been the folly that produced the rout of Camden, his worst enemies 
could see nothing of criminality in his conduct. His actions had 
been the result of a mind made dizzy by success; but no worse accu- 
sation could be brought against him. Yet, as in his prosperity he 
had been unjust to others, so, in adversity there were many unjust 
to him. The wrongs of Arnold were now being fearfully avenged. 
As he travelled north, on his way to his residence in Virginia, no- 
thing but scowling, or at best gloomy faces welcomed him. The 
odium of his defeat had gone before him, and rendered eveji his best 
friends cold. His reception deeply affected his spirits. He who had 
once been so cordial in his manners, was now grave and reserved. 
Notwithstanding his assumption of fortitude in public, in private, it 
is said, he keenly felt his degradation. At last he reached Richmond. 
Here the first word of condolence he had received, greeted his wel- 
come ears. The Assembly was then in session, and a committee 
was appointed to assure the desponding General of " their high re- 
gard and esteem, and that their remembrance of his former glorious 
services was never to be obliterated by any reverse of fortune." 
Washington also, though so much injured by Gates, extended his 
sympathy to the unhappy fugitive, and sought, with disinterested 
kindness, to assuage the sharp pang of misfortune, by compassion- 
ately deferring assembling the court of inquiry. 

Thus closed the military career of Horatio Gates. In depicting 
it we have sought to be governed by exact justice. He was, in our 
opinion, neither a very good nor a very bad man ; neither an able 
General, rior one wholly the reverse. His character suggests no idea 
so forcibly as that of elegant mediocrity. After the termination of 
the war he resided in Virginia until 1789, when he manumitted his 
slaves and removed to New York. He took little part in public af- 
fairs. Once, and once only, he emerged from his retirement. This 
was in 1800, when he served a single term in the Legislature. He 
died on the 10th of April, 1806, leaving no posterity. 




IIII'I'KX'S HOUSE "WHEKE GENERAL ARNOLD WAS MARRIED. 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 




lENEDICT Arnold was the 
I solitary traitor of the Revo- 
lution. Yet it has been the 
fashion of late to extenuate 
I; his treason. It is argued 
jthat he had great tempta- 
[tions; that his passions were 
\ violent; that he was wrong- 
ed by Congress, in rank, 
i fortune, and good name. 

But they know little of hu- 
'maii nature who suppose 

criminals are such from 
■ mere wantonness only. — 

Guilt always has a cause. 

The difference between 

wickedness and honesty is 

not that one is tempted, and 

the other goes free, but that one yields while the other resists. There 
was more than one officer in the army who suffered as great indig- 

323 



324 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

nities as Arnold, yet he alone sought revenge in betraying his coun- 
try. His moral obliquity was the cause of his fall. He, whoso 
romantic courage and intrepidity in the early years of the war, had 
lifted his name on a pinnacle of glory, suffered himself at last, in the 
gratification of an unholy hatred, to be hurried into acts which pre- 
cipitated him from his lofty elevation, and buried him forever in the 
gulf of the traitor. We never recall the name of Arnold, without 
thinking of that Lucifer, who, like him, found ruin in his impetuous 
ambition. 

« So call him now — His former name 
Is heard no more in heaven." 

The character of Arnold is no riddle, as many suppose. On the 
contrary, it is of a very ordinary kind, though not always found in 
such exaggeration. It united great force with even greater depravity. 
But the heart of man is his balance-wheel, and if it be wrong, the 
whole machine runs wild. Arnold had no controlling moral princi- 
ples. As boy and man he would have his way, reckless of the means, 
so that he succeeded. Impetuous, daring, energetic, with a Avill that 
carried everything before it, yet wholly destitute of principle or honor, 
he was like some terrible wild beast, let loose to work his pleasure 
in a crowd, without chain or keeper. If nothing opposed him, all 
went well : but if his path was crossed, hell itself was roused to his 
aid. There was something colossal in the energy with which he 
pursued an object, something awful in his fierceness: like the fabled 
mammoth, when he advanced he crushed everything mercilessly 
down. His almost delirious fury on the battle-field of Saratoga is 
an illustration of this. Raging across the plain, the foe scattering 
wherever he appeared, what was he even then but the same pas- 
sionate and headlong man who, when afterwards opposed by Con- 
gress, rushed, in a phrenzy of hatred, to avenge himself by bartering 
his country. Arnold was consistent throughout his whole career. 
In his boyish pastimes,, a heedless bully; in his commercial days, a 
reckless speculator ; was it to be wondered at if, in the higher walks 
of after life, he played out his part ? From first to last he acted 
without moral restraint. From first to last he had a will to convulse 
empires. The heroism of Arnold was that of vast physical courage, 
set in motion and hurried forward by a fiery soul. His treason, on 
the contrary, was only a new phase of that moral obliquity which 
had attended him through life. If Arnold's guilt is to be extenuated, 
it would be a mockery to punish crime ! 
Benedict Arnold was born at Norwich, Connecticut, on the 3rd 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 325 

of January, 1 740. As a boy he was characterized by cruelty, bad 
temper, and an indifference to the opinions of others. He would 
maim young birds in sight of the parents, in order to be amused by 
the cries of the latter. He scattered broken pieces of glass near the 
school house door that the children might cut their feet. Conduct 
like this evinced a greater degree of innate brutality than belongs to 
boys ordinarily. As he grew up he betrayed dispositions, in other 
respects, painful to his friends. He ran away and enlisted in the 
army, but beinig placed on garrison duty, he found its restraints too 
great, and deserted. At the age of manhood he began business as 
a druggist in New Haven. The energy which had always charac- 
terized him, being, for a while, confined in a legitimate channel, his 
profits increased ; and finally he added the pursuit of a general mer- 
chant to his earlier avocation. He began to trade with the West 
Indies, and commanded his own vessels. Diverging into speculation, 
he finished with insolvency. In addition to this, his irascible, impetu- 
ous and unprincipled disposition continually plunged him into quar- 
rels, in one of which, while in the West Indies, he fought a duel 
with a Frenchman. Numerous anecdotes are preserved of this 
period of his life, but they all resolve themselves into two classes, 
and either exemplify his energy and daring, or else betray his obli- 
quity of moral purpose. 

In 1775, after the battle of Lexington, Arnold marched at the 
head of sixty men from New Haven to Cambridge. Before setting 
out, he called on the selectmen for ammunition, but they refused the 
keys of the magazine, on which Arnold, with characteristic daring, 
answered that, if the keys were not surrendered, he would break 
open the doors. When he arrived at head-quarters he proposed to 
the Massachusetts Committee of Safety the capture of Fort Ticon- 
deroga, and that body adopting his plan, and furnishing him with a 
Colonel's commission, he hastened forward to his destination. His 
intention had been to raise recruits in the western part of the state, 
biU on arriving there he heard of the similar project of the committee 
of the Connecticut Legislature, and instantly pressed forward to 
Castleton, where the New Hampshire volunteers were, in order to 
assert his superior right to the command. The friend^ of Ethan 
Allen, however, would not serve under Arnold, and in the end the 
latter consented to waive his claims, and act as a volunteer. He 
entered the gate of the fort, in the assault, side by side with Allen. 
Subsequently he captured a royal sloop and some galleys. His con- 
duct throughout was marked by energy, intrepidity and military 
forecast; but also by arrogance, impetuosity, and an arbitrary 

cc 



326 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

demeanor. Even at this early period, the seeds of his subsequent 
disgrace were sown. Immediately after the capture of Ticonderoga 
he produced his commission, and claimed the command of the fort ; 
but as the followers of Allen, as well as the Connecticut Committee 
still refused his claims, he withdrew sullenly to Crown Point, where 
he assumed supreme control. His presumption was represented in 
exaggerated terms to the Massachusetts authorities, who despatched 
a committee of inquiry to examine his conduct. The indignation of 
Arnold blazed up at such a procedure, and he angrily resigned his 
commission. His servicesjiad been of value, and, perhaps, were not 
justly rewarded ; but if he had possessed less selfish ambition, he 
would have been less enraged. The war of independence was not 
one in which mere personal ends ought to have been sought. Its 
true heroes were all self-denying men. 

In the ensuing autumn Arnold offered to lead an expedition across 
the wilderness of Maine, in order to penetrate into Canada from an 
unexpected quarter, and try the effect of a surprise on Quebec. The 
route was one of incredible difficulty, and had never been travelled 
except by small parties. But its very dangers recommended it to 
Arnold : he burned to do something beyond ordinary daring : and, 
having received the concurrence of Washington, he began his march, 
on the 16th of September, with about a thousand men. For six 
weeks the expedition toiled on amid perils and privations that would 
have disheartened common leaders. Over rugged mountains, through 
inhospitable forests, and do wr^ rivers foaming with terrific cataracts 
the little army pursued its way, the men often being compelled to 
carry their boats for miles from portage to portage, and sometimes 
passing days in succession drenched to the skin by rain. On one 
occasion several of the batteaux were upset, a large stock of provi- 
sions lost, and the crews nearly drowned. In consequence of this 
accident food became scarce. The troops continually lost themselves, 
moreover, in the labyrinthine woods. Exhausted with incessant 
labor, and weak for want of necessary nourishment, many of the 
men became sick, and were unable to proceed further. The unfor- 
tunate sufferers, in such cases, were left in rude huts, composed of 
the branches of trees, with a companion to tend them, while the rest 
pressed forward ; for to have lingered would have ensured death by 
starvation. Day after day elapsed, yet the settlements did not 
appear. The sun rose, after nights of hunger and fever, on another 
day of toil and privation ; and as he mounted to the zenith, the 
travellers clambered up the lofty trees, and strove to catch a sight 
of some friendly smoke in that vast wilderness. But noon came, 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. S27 

and night succeeded ; and still there was no hope. Another day rose 
and departed ; still no signs of succor ! The men dropped along 
the route, but, remembering that to despair was to perish, rose and 
struggled on as they best could. Soon the travellers were scattered 
over a distance of thirty miles. Despair was fast gathering around 
every heart. In this awful emergency Arnold showed all the qual- 
ities of a great leader, by sharing the privations of the lowest, by 
assisting to draw the batteaux, by hurrying to and fro to cheer the 
men along that extended line. At last, flinging himself into a light 
canoe, he embarked on the angry waters of the Chaudiere, and, in 
three days, after being in continual peril amid its boiling and foam- 
ing current, arrived at Sertigan, the first French settlement in Canada. 
His appearance filled the simple inhabitants with awe. They 
regarded him and his companions almost as some superior beings, 
having ever considered the wilderness impassable unless for soli- 
tary hunters. Tradition still preserves, in the secluded vallies of 
that district, the memory of that audacious enterprise, and old men, 
with grey heads shaking as they rehearse it, tell the miraculous 
story of the " descent of the Bostonians." 

Arnold now despatched --succors to the rear, and booths were 
erected with refreshments, so that the famished members of the ex- 
pedition, as they came in, might find instant relief. He then pro- 
ceeded down the river to conciliate the inhabitants. Success crowned 
his efl'orts. Too recently conquered to have become reconciled to 
their yoke, the French inhabitants of Canada welcomed the Ameri- 
cans as deliverers ; while the Americans on their part, obeymg the 
instructions of Washington, paid the highest respect to the prejudices 
of the Canadians and liberally paid for supplies. Having recruited 
his men by a short delay, Arnold pushed on toward Quebec, hoping 
to take that city by surprise. But a messenger whom ne had 
despatched in advance to some friends in the town, having proved 
a traitor and delivered the letters to the Governor, the garrison was 
'found in a state of preparation. Arnold, however, climbed the 
heights of Abraham and drawing up his troops on the plain, gave 
three cheers, not in idle bravado as some have supposed, but in 
hopes to draw the English from their entrenchments. The command- 
er, however, was too prudent to endanger the loss of the place, and 
obstinately remained, within his walls. Arnold now retired to Point 
aux Trembles, twenty miles above Quebec, where he was soon 
joined by Montgomery ; and the two, uniting their forces, moved 
down again to renew the attempt. The story of that desperate, 
*but gallant assault, need not be repeated here. It is sufficient 



328 



THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 



to say that Montgomery fell and Arnold was wounded, while tho 

attack was repulsed with little loss to the besieged. The block- 




MONTREAL. 



ade of Quebec, however, was continued until May, 1776. During 
a portion of this period Arnold was Governor of Montreal, whither 
he retired in sullen disgust at the coldness of General Wooster, who 
had arrived from the states and superseded him in the command. 
Gradually the Americans were compelled to relinquish one post after 
another in Canada, until on the 18th of June, the army permanently 
abandoned that country. In the retreat, Arnold led the rear, ajid 
like Ney in Russia, was the last man to retire. The story of his 
conduct on this occasion is as picturesque as any in romance. When 
the army was about to sail for Crown Point, Arnold remained be- 
hind to superintend the embarkation. At last every boat had left 
except his own ; he then mounted his horse and attended only by a 
single Aid-de-camp, rode back two miles, until the advancing legions 
of the enemy were distinctly visible. Drawing in his rein, he gazed 
at them for a short time, and, when his curiosity was satisfied, has- 
tened back to St. Johns. The boat was in waiting, and the men 
anxious to be gone ; for already the evening gun of the enemy 
echoed among the neighboring hills. The horses were stripped and 
shot, and Arnold, pushing off the boat with his own hands, leaped 
on board, the men sprang to their oars, and the light craft, skim- 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 329 

inmg rapidly away, was soon lost in the gathering obscurity of the 
night. 

On the news of Arnold's gallant behavior at Quebec, Congress had 
appointed him a Brigadier. This new rank opened to his ambitiou? 
soul a wider career of glory ; but the higher he soared, the loftiej 
grew his aspirations, and the prouder his daring ! On the retreat of the 
army to Ticonderoga, he was appointed to command a small fleet on 
Lake Champlain, destined to harass, and, if possible, baffle the 
approach of the British, who, in numerous galleys, were preparing 
to adv^ance down the lake. A better choice of a leader for this little 
navy, could not have been made. Arnold's voyages to the West 
Indies had given him a sufficient knowledge of maritine affairs to 
answer his present purpose, and besides, the smallness of the vessels 
would render the combats rather like the hand to hand conflicts of 
knightly times than the sea-fights of modern warfare. Perhaps, 
no man ever lived more fitted to distinguish himself in such melees 
than Benedict Arnold. It was not long before he heard of the pre- 
sence of an English fleet in the lake, and sallying out boldly, although 
he knew the enemy to be superior, he soon became engaged in a 
desperate strife. His own force consisted of three schooners, two 
sloops, three galleys and eight gondolas ; the enemy had one three- 
masted vessel, two schooners, a radeau, one gondola, and twenty 
gun-boats. For some hours the battle raged furiously notwithstand- 
ing the vast disproportion of numbers, for the wind not allowing all 
the vessels on either side to be engaged, the Americans had even 
a smaller relative force in battle than that enumerated above. Dur- 
ing the action Arnold was the chief stay of his little fleet. He pointed 
almost every gun that was fired from his galley, and stimulated his 
crew by a constant exposure of his person. Both his own vessel 
and that of his second in command were terribly shattered. The 
number of killed and wounded was enormous, considering the small 
force engaged. Every officer on board of one of the gondolas, ex- 
cept the captain, was killed, and another gondola sank soon after the 
conflict. 

Night now fell around the scene of strife, and the smoke which 
had lain packed upon the water, gradually eddied off and thinned 
imperceptibly away. But no stars were in the cloudy sky. This 
was, however, a fortunate circumstance for Arnold, as it enabled him 
to put in execution a design which the ruined condition of his fleet 
and the disparity of his forces rendered inevitable. This was to re- 
turn to Crown Pomt. But as the enemy had anchored their vessels 
in a line from shore to shore in order to prevent his retreat, tlie 
42 cc* 



330 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

manceuvre would, perhaps, have been impossible but for the favor 
ing obscurity of the night. A breeze from the north springing up, 
the crippled navy got under weigh. Arnold, as usual, brought up 
the rear. Not a sound was heard except the ripple of the water 
under the galley's stern, and the sough of the wind among the pine 
trees on the shore, as this gallant craft, bringing up the line, stood boldly 
on between the two principal vessels of the foe. Even the tread of 
the sentry on board the British ships could be distinguished. At last 
the gauntlet wS.s safely run, and spreading all sail, the fleet sped 
swiftly up the lake. But when it had proceeded about twelve miles 
it was forced to come to anchor in oider to stop leaks, and before it 
was ready to advance again, the wind died away and then came out 
baffling from the south. The ships could not all sail alike, and some 
necessarily fell behind. By the second morning after the battle, the 
pursuing enemy overtook the rear of the fugitives. A fresh conflict 
ensued. The force of the British was so overpowering that soon 
the galley of Arnold was the only one that had not surrendered.. For 
four hours, a ship of eighteen guns, a schooner of fourteen, and 
another of twelve, poured a concentric fire on his sohtary craft; and 
for four hours Arnold returned the unequal cannonade, the crater, as 
it were, of a blazing volcano. At last his vessel, reduced almost to 
a wreck, was surrounded by seven hostile sail. In this situation, 
Arnold ran his galley with the four gondolas ashore in a small stream 
near the scene of conflict, and setting fire to them, ordered the ma- 
rines to leap out, wade to land and line the bank in order to keep 
off the enemy. The order was faithfully executed. Arnold remained 
alone on board until sure that the flames could not be extinguished, 
then, leaving the flags flying in defiance, he sprang into the water 
and marched sword in hand to shore. 

This series of brilliant deeds gave Arnold an unequalled popula- 
iity with the people. His name was on every tongue. The distant 
vallies of Pennsylvania as well as the villages of his native New 
England, rung with plaudits ; and a hundred anecdotes were passed 
from tongue to tongue, of his sufferings in the wilderness, of his 
dauntlessness at Quebec, of his dazzling heroism on Lake Champlain. 
Men said that what others dared to propose he dared to execute .• 
that there was nothing he would not attempt, and few things he 
could not achieve. Where the strife raged fiercest, there, they de- 
clared, his sword flamed highest, as of old the white plume of Henry 
of Navarre danced on the surge of battle. Arnold knew that this 
was his reputation ; but he knew also that many envied him. There 
were numerous oflicers in the army who were as selfish as himself 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 331 

but had none of his impetuous bravery ; and these, with their friends 
in and out of Congress, waited only an opportunity to injure hirn. 
It was not long wanting. Even before the naval battle of Lake 
Champlain, a complaint had been made against Arnold in reference 
to some goods which he had carried off from Montreal in his official 
capacity, and though, perhaps, there was nothing criminal in his 
conduct, it was sufficiently irregular to afford a handle for his ene- 
mies. Unfortunately neither Arnold's former character as a mer- 
chant, nor his present reputation in monied transactions were of a 
kmd to discountenance such a charge, but rather tended to confirm 
it. In addition to this, his haughty and arrogant demeanor had ren- 
dered him disagreeable to his military associates ; and these latter, 
by their letters to members of Congress, spread the same dislike to 
Arnold abroad which existed in the camp. The consequence was 
that, when a new list of Major-Generals was made out, Arnold was 
neglected and younger officers appointed in his stead. A case is 
half lost already when the prejudices of the public are enlisted 
against either party. Arnold was in this unfortunate situation. Nor 
was he a man who, when he found the current setting against him, 
would endeavor to conciliate his enemies or the public ; but on the 
contrary, carrying his impetuosity in battle into private life, he strove 
to force his antagonists into submission. This was the course he now 
adopted. At once he called in the public as his arbiters, and complain- 
ed to them of his services and his neglect. This defiant conduct, as 
might have been expected, only increased the virulence of his ene- 
mies. He lost his temper too, in all such controversies ; and the 
more he was wronged, the angrier he recriminated. Instead of wait- 
ing prudently until the sense of the people should compel his enemies 
to do him justice, he stormed against Congress with a violence 
amounting almost to insanity, and which disgusted even his friends. 
Instead of imitating the example of Schuyler, who, when superseded 
in the moment of victory, stifled his resentment and patriotically 
assisted Gates, Arnoldj when overlooked in the prt>motions, dinned 
into the ears of the nation his selfish complaints, and exposed his 
wounds ostentatiously to the public gaze, like a ragged mendicant 
on the highway. 

Washington was the only man that could control this haughty and 
imprudent spirit. He understood perfectly the fiery impetuosity of 
Arnold, and if he misjudged him at all it was in charitably estimat- 
ing his moral character too favorably. He gave wise counsel to the 
irritated General in this emergency — counsel which, if always fol- 
lowed by Arnold, would have saved his name from future infamy, 



332 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

And, for a while, Arnold listened to Washington, and obeyed his 
better angel. The Commander-in-chief now took up his part, and 
wrote to Congress in relation to the aifair; and Arnold himself, about 
this time having gallantly repulsed a predatory^ncursion of the Bri- 
tish in Connecticut, that body, at last, listened to his claims and ele- 
vated him to the rank of Major-General. He was not, however, 
placed above the juniors of whose promotion he had been complain- 
ing, and the guerdon accordingly, as it fell short of his wishes, was 
received with angry reproaches. Indeed, to a nature like Arnold's, 
this half reluctant and incomplete justice was a source of constant irri- 
tation : it worked like a thorn in his soul, continually festering, and 
from that day to the hour of his suicidal ruin, it kept him in a state of 
morbid excitement, which first hurried him on, a madman, to Beh- 
mis' Heights, and afterwards precipitated him, a traitor, into infamy 
and ruin. Yet we do not urge these things as a defence of his con- 
duct. Had not a mere selfish ambition actuated him, he would never 
had betrayed his country for robbing him of rank. We only ana- 
lyze his character. 

Another difficulty, meantime, arose between him and Congress. 
By the peculiarity of his situation, during the two last campaigns, 
he had been compelled to act not only in the capacity of commander, 
but of Commissary and Paymaster also. He now presented his ac- 
counts for settlement, and claimed a large balance in his favor. As 
it was known that he entered the service poor, men asked how he 
came to accumulate such a sum. On examining his statement it was 
found to contain several extravagant charges in his own behalf, 
some of them of a dubious character, and others clearly unreasona- 
ble. The authorities naturally hesitated to settle such accounts. 
His enemies in Congress openly charged him with endeavoring to 
swindle the public, nor could his friends consistently defend conduct 
30 evidently wrong. At last, finding the committee not disposed to 
fnake a report in his favor, and discovering that the friends of the 
)ther Major-Generals were too strong for him to attain the rank he 
lesired, in a fit of impetuous anger he sent in his resignation, declar- 
u.g that he was driven to do this by a sense of the injustice he had 
J uffered, and averring that " honor was a sacrifice no man ought to 
Make." But he had scarcely despatched the document when intel- 
l:gence of the fall of Ticonderoga was received, and immediately 
after Washington wrote to Congress, recommending that Arnold 
should be sent to the northern army. " He is active, judicious 
and brave," said the Commander-in-chief, "and an officer in whom 
the militia will repose great confidence." The offer of the appoint- 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 333 

mcnt conciliated Arnold. He declared that he would go at once to 
Schuyler's army and trust to the justice of Congress for his reparation. 

He reached the northern army a few days before the evacuation of 
Fort Edward, and while there heard that Congress had finally dis- 
allowed his claim to be advanced over the other Major-Generals. 
He again determined to resign, but was prevented by the coun- 
sels of Schuyler. When the army fell back to Stillwater, intelligence 
arrived of the sanguinary battle of Oriskany, in which General Her- 
kimer had lost his Ufe ; and Arnold promptly volunteered to lead an 
expedition to the relief of Fort Leger, now blockaded by the victo- 
rious foe. A stratagem played oflf by Arnold led the enemy to sup- 
pose that his force was far greater than it was; and the British, with- 
out waiting for a conflict retreated in confusion. After an absence 
of twenty days Arnold returned to camp. He found the army, 
under the command of Gates, had retreated and taken post just 
above the confluence of the Mohawk and Hudson ; but a few days 
after, the enemy still occupying Saratoga, the Americans retraced 
their steps and occupied Behmis' Heights. A week subsequently the 
battle of Stillwater was fought. This action lasted from noon until 
night and was contested chiefly by Arnold's division. 

Directly after the battle, Gates withdrew a part of Arnold's divi- 
sion, without the latter's knowledge. A* this Arnold was extremely 
indignant, as it placed him in the light, he said, of presuming to give 
orders which were contravened by the general orders of the Com- 
mander-in-chief In his despatches respecting the battle of Stillwater, 
Gates had overlooked Arnold's division altogether, merely stating 
that the struggle was carried on by detachments from the army. At 
this, too, Arnold was justly indignant. " Had my division behaved 
ill," he said, " the other division of the army would have thought it 
extremely hard to have been amenable for their conduct." An angry 
altercation ensued between the two Generals. Gates insinuated that, 
on Lincoln's arrival, he should take away Arnold's division from 
him. Arnold demanded a pass for himself and suite to join Wash- 
ington. Gates haughtily complied with the request. But Arnold, on 
reconsideration, thinking he would hazard his reputationby a depar- 
ture on the eve of battle, remained, though stripped of his command, 
without any employment in camp, and in open hostility with the Ge- 
neral-in-chief The censure of this afiair must be equally divided 
between Gates and Arnold. The former was arrogant and tyranni- 
cal ; the latter insolent and presuming. The one was jealous of the 
glory won by his subordinates; the other not unwilling^ to supplant 
his superior in renown. 



53^4 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

The quafrel remained in this condition when the second batiie of 
Behmis' Heights occurred, on the 7th of October, 1777. The action 
was begun by a detachment, fifteen hundred strong, headed by 
Burgoyne in person, directed against the left of the American posi- 
tion. Gates instantly determined to cut this force off from the main 
body, and accordingly hurled his masses against its left ; while a 
strong body of troops was despatched to get into its rear. An attack 
was also made on the British right, so that the conflict now became 
general along the whole line. As Arnold had no command, he 
remained chafing in his own tent, but when the roar of battle in- 
creased, unable to endure the inaction longer, he rushed out, and 
mounting a borrowed charger, rode, for some time in excitement 
around the camp, and then galloped to the field without orders. The 
animal he rode was a beautiful Spanish mare, celebrated for her 
fleetness of foot, and all eyes in the camp were soon turned on the 
spirited steed and its rider as they scoured the distance between the 
lines and the army. The instant Gates recognized Arnold, he turned 
angrily to Major Armstrong and commanded him to bring the fugi- 
tive General back. But Arnold, divining his message, would not 
' allow Armstrong to overtake him. Dashing^into the hottest of the 
fight whenever his pursuer approached, he lost himself amid the 
smoke, until at last the latter abandoned the erratic chase in despair. 
Arnold now had the field before him. He was without orders, the officer, 
of highest rank in the action. Plunging hither and thither through 
the apparently involved strife, issuing directions for which his former 
renown as well as his rank ensured obedience, he became from that 
moment the master spirit of the fight. The most wonderful accounts 
are handed down, by tradition, of his intrepidity. The prodigies of 
valor he performed surpass the boundaries of romance. A reckless- 
ness allied to phrenzy seemed to have possessed him, and he hurled 
himself continually on the solid masses of the foe, scattering terror 
and confusion wherever he came. 

His example was contagious. Storming over the field like a 
whirlwind, he swept his men with him wherever he went, here rend- 
ing and splitting the ranks of the enemy, there dashing them head- 
long before his track. It is said, by some, that he was intoxicated, 
by others that he acted under the influence of opium. But it was 
not so. Passions wrought to their highest pitch by liis late quarrel, 
ambition fearing a fall, rage seeking an outlet, revenge burning for 
distinction, all these feelings, flaming in his bosom at once, fired him 
: to a madness that surpassed that of any physical excitement, and 
hurled him across the field, like some wild meteor disengaged by 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 



335 



the tempest of the elements. In this phrenzy he did acts of which 
afterwards he had no recollection. An officer hesitating to obey his 
orders, he struck the man over the head with his sword ; yet, the 
next day Arnold had forgotten it. On one occasion, having to cross 




AKXOLI) AT BEHMIS' HEIGilTS. 



the field, he wheeled his steed in front of his own men, and dashed 
down the whole length of the line, opposed to both fires. Gallop- 
ing to and fro, his voice rising above the shattering noise of battle, 
he stimulated to great deeds wherever he came. As the British, 
finding their retreat about to be cut off, began to retire, Arnold came 
up at the head of three regiments, and fell, like a thunderbolt, on 
their line. Recoiling before this fierce onset, the enemy strove no 
longer to keep his ground, but only to reach his camp before the 
pursuing Americans ; while Arnold charing his men by words and 
by the most heroic exposure of his person, raged furiously in his rear 



336 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

At last Burgoyne gained his entrenchments ; but even here he was 
not safe ! Arnold came foaming on, and soon reaching the foot of 
the lines, lashed them incessantly. Night gradually fell, yet still the 
assault continued. In vain the British swept his ranks with mus- 
ketry and grape ; in vain a thousand bayonets bristled above the 
works ; still waving his sword at the head of his troops, and excit- 
ing them with enthusiastic appeals, he led them up to the very mouth 
of the artillery, drove back the appalled defenders, and was entering 
the sally-port, when a grape shot shattered his leg, and killing his 
horse under him, he fell helpless to the ground. 

But he had conquered. He had made himself the hero of the 
day. Wounded, but exulting he was borne from the field ; and 
soon after the attack closed on all sides, for with his departure 
the master-spirit had vanished. Darkness fell upon the scene ; the 
smoke gradually lifting from the field, slowly eddied away ; but in 
the dim obscurity, only an undistinguishable mass of broken artil- 
lery wagons, shattered carriages and heaps of dead were discernible. 
But, it was known that the enemy were everywhere driven back ; 
and far over the valley lights were seen, which told that the Ameri- 
cans were established in the Hessian camp. As the wounded hero 
lay on his couch, news was brought him that the army attributed to 
him the chief glory of the day. The welcome intelligence compen- 
sated him for his suffering. His proud soul swelled with the thought 
that though deprived of his command and sought to be disgraced by 
his superior, he had plucked the laurels from the brow of Gates ; 
and, in the sanguinis exhilaration of the hour, he looked forward 
to a long career of glory and to a triumph over all his enemies, as 
galling to them as it would be delicious to himself. Nor was he dis- 
appointed, at least in a part of his expectations. Congress, on receiv- 
ing intelligence of the battle of Behmis' Heights, immediately elevated 
Arnold to his long desired rank. Felicitations poured in on him from 
every quarter. At Albany, whither he had retired in consequence 
of his wound, he became an object of universal interest. Burgoyne, 
after the capitulation, personally complimented him on his intrepidity. 
In short, he was now at the zenith of his dazzling career — the won- 
der and applause of his countrymen ; but alas ! the star that blazed 
so brilliantly was only a false meteor, which already began to dim, 
and which was destined, amid gloom and tempest, to grow darker 
and darkor to the close ! 

His wound proving tedious and unfitting him for service, Arnold, 
after the recovery of Philadelphia, was assigned the command of 
that plac(3. His duties were never exactly defined, and his interfer- 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 337 

* 

ence soon offended the authorities of Pennsylvania,. the result of which 
was another of those unfortunate quarrels in which Arnold continued 
to be involved, from the beginning to the close of his military career. 
His enemies charged him with extortion, oppression, and applying 
the public money to his own use ; he retorted in his old manner, 
impetuously and defyingly, appealing to his services as a defence. 
It is not our purpose to dig up and expose, from the grave of buried 
animosities, the unhappy bickerings, and more unhappy recrimina- 
tions of that controversy. Our present aim requires only that we 
should state accurately the amount of Arnold's guilt. This extended 
to imprudence, but scarcely to crime. However, his old enemies 
had never been conciUated, and these now joining their outcries to 
his new ones, both together produced an uproar against which even 
Arnold could make no head, notwithstanding the brilliancy of his 
reputation. He became excessively unpopular in Philadelphia. At 
last the state authorities exhibited charges against him for pretended 
oppressive and illegal acts ; and, in the end, a military tribunal was 
appointed to examine and adjudicate on the case. His trial began 
in June, 1779, but, owing to the movements of the army, it was not 
concluded until January, 1780. To the astonishment of Arnold it 
ended in his conviction on two of the charges. He was not found 
guilty of any criminality, however, but of imprudent and improper 
conduct for one in his high station. He was sentenced to be repri- 
manded by Washington. 

Simultaneously with the progress of this quarrel, Arnold had been 
engaged in endeavoring to obtain a settlement of his accounts with 
Congress. The old difficulties, however, interposed. In the end. 
Congress agreed to allow him about half of his claims, but inti- 
mated that he was then receiving more than he had any right to 
expect. At this, his resentment broke forth into the most violent 
invectives against the injustice of that body. In public and private 
he declaimed of the ingratitude of his country. There is no doubt 
that Congress was torn by factions, and that many members opposed 
Arnold from improper motives ; but there is as little doubt that, in 
his accounts, he was endeavoring to plunder his country. Even had 
he been perfectly innocent,however,the injustice of others would have 
been no defence of his subsequent conduct. But Arnold was not one to 
reason thus. His character was such that he often fancied himself 
injured when he was not ; and when he fancied himself injured, his 
first thought was of revenge. To gain this he was willing to sacri- 
fice everything — honor, a good name, his home, his country. He 
had long nursed this foul sentiment secretly in his bosom, and had 
43 DD 



338 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

even taken some steps to carry it into execution, with the intention 
of pursuing or abandoning it as circumstances should recommend 5 
but now, when Congress gave this imphcit censure in their report, 
and afterwards approved the sentence of the court martial by which 
he Avas subjected to the ignominy of a reprimand, he resolved to 
adopt the measure he had as yet only vaguely conceived. Another 
circumstance contributed to hasten this resolution, which we must 
present, before a just estimate of his character can be formed. 

On his arrival at Philadelphia, Arnold had given way to the 
natural selfishness and vanity of his soul, by adopting a style of the 
most ostentatious living, and one little in consonance with his com- 
paratively narrow means. He leased the house of Governor Penn, 
drove a carriage and four, gave splendid entertainments, and, in 
every way, sought to vie with the wealthiest inhabitants of the place. 
He formed an attachment for Miss Shippen, a young lady of great 
beauty, whose connexions and sympathies were chiefly with the 
loyalists, and who had herself been an admired belle in the circle of 
the British officers during their late occupation of the city. The 
society into which this marriage threw him, increased the suspicion 
into which Arnold fell. Neither did it diminish his expensive 
habits. He soon began to feel the necessity of recruiting his finances. 
For this purpose he embarked in privateering, but met with no 
success. He wrote to Washington, proposing to take the command 
of the navy ; but as he received no encouragement, he abandoned 
his project. He then waited on the Chevalier de la Luzerne, 
Ambassador from the Court of France, and proposed to that gentle- 
man to advance him a loan from the Court of Versailles; but 
the Chevalier, who felt an interest in so brave a man, kindly repre- 
sented that any such loan would be considered by his enemies, in 
the light of a bribe, and to Arnold's chagrin, declined it. Thus, 
impelled at once by his necessities, and by the desire for revenge, he 
resolved to consummate the treason he had long projected. 

Even before the period when the court of inquiry was first ordered 
on his conduct, so early indeed as the spring of 1779, Arnold had 
opened a secret correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton, under the 
assumed character of a merchant, adopting the fictitious name of 
Anderson. Clinton at once suspected, from the contents of the let- 
ters, that his correspondent was a man of rank in the American 
army; and giving the epistles into the hand of Major Andre, his 
protegee, directed him to answer them. Andre replied over the 
signature of Gustavns. The correspondence was contmued, without 
Clinton discovering the name of the traitor, until the trial of Arnold, 



RENPDTrr AT^yoLD. 339 

when the British General became convinced, by a combination of 
various circumstances, that this was the man. When, therefore, 
shortly after, the command of West Point was given to Arnold, and 
Clinton received a letter from the pretended Anderson, stating that 
he was now in a situation to render a vast service to the royal cause, 
but wished to have a private interview with some responsible officer, 
in order to adjust the terms, the British General felt justified in 
deputing Major Andre, Ave may suppose with ample powers, to 
meet this secret friend, and, if he should prove to be Arnold, to 
promise everything in order to obtain possession of West Point. 

For that fortress, in consequence of being the depot where the 
stores were deposited, which had been collected in view of the pro- 
jected attack on New York, was now a prize of the highest value 
10 Clinton, since its capture would at once derange the plans of the 
enemy, and break up altogether the approaching campaign. Nor 
had Arnold obtained the command of this post without much finesse. 
Indeed, from the hour when he resolved on his treason, he began to 
display a subtlety, little of which had been evinced in his former 
life, and which would have been thought incompatible with his 
impetuosity. Instead of openly asking for the command, he ap- 
proached his object by tortuous steps, procuring others to suggest 
him for it, and then merely hinting to Washington its fitness for 
him, in consequence of his wounded leg, which had not yet grown 
strong. Once in possession of the place he became urgent, as we 
have seen, for an interview with some responsible British officer. 
He himself suggested Andre as a proper person. That gallant 
officer, on being applied to, accepted the task, though unwillingly. 

What took place at the interview that followed is a secret which 
descended to the grave with its guilty perpetrators. Nor are the 
results known, except so far as they were betrayed by the papers 
found in Andre's boots, at the time of his capture. But from these 
it would appear that Sir Henry Clinton, on an appointed day, was 
to have advanced up the Hudson with the flower of his army, and 
that Arnold was to have placed the garrison of West Point in such 
situations that the place would have fallen an easy prey to the 
enemy. Andre was to have led one of the columns, and to have 
been rewarded, in case of success, with the rank of Brigadier. W^hat 
was to have been the compensation of Arnold, in the event of this 
triumph, we have no means of determining, though, from the letters 
of CUnton to the British Ministry, it is evident that no price was 
considered too great to secure the possession of West Point. Fortu 
uately. the plot failed. In the very moment of apparent success, 



340 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

when the arch conspirator was already counting his gains, the 
unexpected arrest of Andre frustrated the whole treason, and brought 
ruin on its plotters. Yet fate most unequally awarded the penalties 
Andre, the accomplished, gallant, noble-hearted gentleman, the pride 
of the British army, and the stay of his widowed mother and of his 
sisters, died a felon's death ; while Arnold, the mercenary patriot, 




HEAD-QUAETEKS AT TAPPAN. 

the unprmcipled man, the officer without honor, the heart black with 
base revenge, escaped by a combination of the most fortuitous cir- 
cumstances, and died, at last, in his bed. But time has, in part, 
made amends for this apparent injustice. The story of Andre is 
now never told without a tear; while the treason of Arn6id is 
always heard with execrations. The one, exhumed from his hum- 
ble grave on the Hudson, lies in the stately shades of Westminster 
Abbey, and, of all the heroes, and sages, and poets there, attracts 
the first attention : the other, buried in his obscure grave, without a 
monument to mark the spot, survives only as a lesson to our children 
as a hissing and reproach among nations. 

We have not, it will be seen, followed the episode of Andre into 
its details. The narrative is familiar to all. But we have endeavored 
to do what is more to our purpose, to analyze the causes of Arnold's 
treason. We have traced, step by step, the growth of that dark 
design in his unprincipled, selfish, and revengeful bosom ; and have 
successfully proved, we think, that the sequence was a natural one, 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 341 

und(^.r the circumstances, to a mind like his. There was no mon- 
strosity in the wickedness of Arnold, He was not, as the early wri- 
ters loved 10 paint him, a fiend in human shape. On the contrary, 
he was just such a person as hundreds might become, if they should 
cast aside the restraints of virtue. He was only a bad man, whose 
violent passions, uncontrolled by moral principles, seduced him in- 
sensibly to his ruin. He was brave, it is true, even 'to heroism; but 
this, rightly considered, is no extenuation of his crime ; on the con- 
trary, it awakens indignation, perhaps mingled a little with regret, 
that one who might have served his country so effectually, chose 
rather to serve her foes. Men of Arnold's character continually cross 
the path of those conversant with criminal courts ; men of high ani- 
mal courage, but low in the scale of morals ; men who are burglars, 
or highwaymen, or murderers, as the circumstances may demand. 
It was his fortune to move in a higher sphere only : had his situation 
been different his fate might have been theirs. We are not of those 
who think he ever could have been a permanent ornament to his 
country. Had his grievances been even less, or had they been none, 
at all, he would, sooner or later, have become a dangerous man in 
consequence of his depravity of principle. " Can the leopard change 
his spots, or the Ethiopian his skin ?" In a word, Arnold had half 
the elements of a hero, and half the elements of a villain ; but the 
villain triumphed over the hero. 

The events of the traitor's subsequent career may be told in a few 
words. On his flight to New York, he was appointed a Colonel in 
the British army with the brevet of a Brigadier. He immediately 
began to raise a regiment of Royalists and renegades, and published, 
an address to the Americans, inviting them to return to their alle- 
giance. His proclamation was treated with scorn ; and, with all his 
efforts, his regiment filled up but slowly. Eager to display his zeal 
for the royal cause, he solicited active employment, and was sent on 
an expedition against Virginia, where his atrocities will be long re- 
membered. He did not succeed, however, in gaining the confidence 
of his new employers ; for Clinton, when he a:ssigned him this com- 
mand, attached Colonels Dundas and Simcoe to the expedition, and 
ordered them secretly to watch Arnold ; and subsequently^, when 
Cornwallis arrived in Virginia, one of his first acts was to banish the 
traitor from head-quarters. The antipathy to him in the British army 
was so great that, finding he could get no respectable officers to serve 
under him, he sailed for Europe before the war closed. None of 
his acts in America, after his treason, reflect the slightest credit on 

DD* 



342 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

him; but, on the contrary, his ferocity at New London and in Virgi- 
nia, increased the infamy of his name. 

Arrived in England, his reception was not more favorable than in 
New York. The government, from motives of interest, continued to 
shew him favor ; but in private society he was shunned by men of 
honor and subjected to daily insults. Lord Lauderdale, observing 
him standing near the throne, when the sovereign came in state to 
the House, remarked that notwithstanding the graciousness of his 
majesty's language, his indignation was aroused to see the King 
supported by a traitor. Lord Surry, on one occasion having risen 
to address the House, and seeing Arnold in the gallery, set down, 
declaring he would not speak while such a man was present. When 
the war with France broke out, Arnold sohcited employment, but 
the government, finding that no officer would serve under him, 
declined his services. In the interval he had removed to St. Johns, 
New Brunswick, and engaged in trade; and to compensate him in 
part for his services, the ministry afforded him lucrative contracts for 
supplying the West India troops with provisions. His style of living 
was still profuse and showy; but though received on this account 
among the wealthier classes, he soon became odious with the popu- 
lace. He finally returned to London, where he died on the 14th of 
June, 1801, at the age of sixty -one. 

His wife clung to him throughout all, the same in his guilt as m 
his glory. The morning of his flight, he called her to his chamber 
and hastily unfolding to her his story, left her senseless at the dis- 
closure and hurried away. Her distraction has been eloquently 
painted by the pen of Hamilton, and is said to have drawn tears 
from Washington, whom, in her delirious agony, she upbraided as 
the cause of her sorrows. It has been thought, by some, that this 
was only acting, and that she had been, all along, the confidant of 
her husband's treason. But this is an error. Mrs. Arnold gave no 
assistance to the plot, unless by feeding unconsciously her husband's 
love of extravagance. When she recovei^d, she desired to be allowed 
to join him, and, throughout his subsequent career, clung to him with 
all a woman's devotion. We cannot dismiss this subject without an 
anecdote illustrative of the temper of the American populace towards 
females. Mrs. Arnold was travelling to join her husband when she 
stopped, f3r the night, at a village where the mob were about burning 
the traitor in effigy; but the rioters, hearing of her arrival, postponed 
their sport. Would the populace of any other nation have dis- 
played a similar delicacy ? 




GENERAL JAMES CLINTON'S ESCAPE FROM FORT CLINTON. 



JAMES CLINTON 



T would be invidious in any history of the war of 
independence, to pass over the services of the two 
CKntons of New York. Gen. George Clinton, 
the youngest of the two brothers, contributed, 
more than any other man in that commonwealth, to 
the success of the cause. His popularity and influ- 
ence there were unbounded. He was Governor of 
the state for eighteen years, having been first elected 
in 1777, and afterwards continued, by triennial 
^'^ " elections, until 1795. In 1805, he was chosen Vice- 
President of the United States, and died in 1812,while still in possession 

343 




344 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

of that high office. As he was rather a civil than a iniiitaiy characl(!r 
we dismiss him with this brief alkision to liis inestimable services. 

His brother, James Clinton, a Major-Generarin the continental 
line, having been more actively employed in a military capacity, 
comes more properly within the scope of this work. He was the 
fourth son of Colonel Charles Clinton, an Irish emigrant, and was 
born in Ulster county, on the 19th of August^ 1736. In early life he 
possessed few adventitious aids to success except an excellent edu- 
cation, a gift which he shared in common with his four brothers. 
Evincing an inclination for the military life, he was appointed, in 
1756, an Ensign in a militia regiment, from which rank he rose in 
1758, to a Lieutenancy, and, in 1759, to a Captaincy. In 1763 he 
was elevated to the post of Captain-Commandant of the four compa- 
nies raised to defend the western frontiers of New York ; and, in 
1774, he became Lieutenant-Colonel of the second regiment of mili- 
tia, in his native country. In the French war he participated in the 
capture of Fort Frontenac, and won a reputation for gallantry, reso- 
lution and military skill. At the close of the war he married a Miss 
De Witt, and retired to private life. But, like other veterans of that 
contest, when the revolutionary war became inevitable, he cheerfully 
resumed his old profession, and prepared to shed his blood for free- 
dom. Congress immediately gave him the commission of a Colo- 
nel, and subsequently, in 1776, that of a Brigadier. It was not until 
the close of the strife that he attained the rank of a Major-General. 

Clinton served in the expedition against Canada, under Montgo- 
mery ; but his chief military achievement was the defence of Fort 
Chnton, on the Hudson, in October, 1777. His brother, Governor 
Clinton, as Commander-in-chief, was at Fort Montgomery, its neigh- 
bor. The attack on these forts was part of a plan conceived by Sir 
Henry Clinton, to create a diversion in favor of Burgoyne and open 
^ a passage, up the Hudson, to that unfortunate General. Accordingly, 
at the head of four thousand men, the British General advanced up 
that river, and having surrounded Forts Montgomery and Clinton, 
made a desperate assault upon them. They were defended by only 
about five hundred men, chiefly militia, while the works themselves 
were in a very unfinished condition. Yet the resistance, though 
hopeless, was glorious to our arms. Militia as well as regulars 
behaved with the courage of heroes. Manning their feeble lines, 
the Americans fought on until sundown, an incessant fire continu- 
ally girdling the entrenchments, the echoes of which, reverberating 
through the hills, spread terror far and wide among the inhabitants 
of that quiet region. At last the overwhelming numbers of the ene- 



JAMES CLINTON. 345 

my could be resisted no longer ; and, like a solid wave of infantry, 
the British poured over the walls. Some few of the conquered 
fought their way out, while the darkness of the night assisted others 
to escape. Fortunately, neither the Governor nor his brother were 
taken. The latter made an escape which is as full of romance as 
that ol any fabled knight of chiva ry. 

James Clinton was the last mar^ to abandon the works. Pursued 
and fired at by the enemy, and with a severe wound from a bayonet 
thrust, he yet succeeded in making his escape and eluding tlie search 
of the British. His servant was killed during the flight, and he now 
found himself alone. He knew if he retained his horse he should 
be detected, so, removing the bridle from the faithful animal, he dis- 
missed him, and shd down a precipice, one hundred feet in depth, 
to the ravine which separated the forts. A small brook threads its 
way through this narrow cleft. Into this Clinton fell, and luckily 
the cold water checked the effusion of blood from his wound. 
Creeping along the precipitous banks, he finally gained a part of the 
mountain at a distance from the fort ; and here he sat down, weak 
and cold, to think on his still perilous situation.' The return of light 
he knew would betray him, unless he could fortunately discover a 
horse, a contingency not altogether impossible, as horses sometimes 
ran wild in that desolate region. He watched the slow approach of 
dawn with anxious misgivings. One by one the stars paled, and the 
cold grey of the morning stole over the landscape. He was still so 
near the fort that he could hear the reveille. The chill dusky hue of 
early dawn began to redden, and at last the sun shot above the 
eastern hills. A few hours now, perhaps a few minutes, would re- 
veal him to the foe. Famt from loss of blood, and stiff from expo- 
sure to the night dews, he struggled wearily on, when, suddenly, a 
neigh rose on the stillness of the morning and a horse appeared in 
sight. Clinton soon succeeded in catching the prize. His bridle, 
which he had preserved, was now invaluable. About noon, he 
reached his own house, sixteen miles from the fort, his clothes torn, 
his person covered with blood, and a high fever raging in his veins. 

In 1779, Clinton commanded a detachment of sixteen hundred 
men, which was sent into the country of the Six Nations, in order 
to assist Sullivan in his expedition against those hostile Indians. He 
had arrived at the head of Owego Lake, but finding the Susquehan- 
nah, which there debouches from the lake, too shallow to float his 
batteaux, he raised a dam across the aperture, and when the waters 
had collected sufliciently, he broke down the barrier and thus bore 
his troops triumphantly to Tioga. The Indians made a stand at 
44 



S46 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

Newtown, on the 29th of August, 1779, but their fortifications were 
carried in a vigorous assault, and, after that, no further resistance 
was made. The Americans now proceeded to inflict summary ven- 
geance for the massacre of Wyoming. The Indians inhabiting that 
district, had attained to comparative civiHzation. They possessed 
villages, gardens, orchards, corn-fields, horses and cows, and farming 
implements of the most approved construction. Their dwellings 
were commodious, some even elegant. Through and through that 
beautiful district went the fire-brand and the sword. The wife 
fled from her home, as the Americans appeared, 'but lingered in the 
woods nigh until she saw it given to the flames; then, with fast fall- 
ing tears, she took her children by the hand and began her weary 
journey, through the wilderness, to Fort Niagara. All day the 
smoke of houses and barns darkened those beautiful vallies: all 
night the glare of conflagrations lit up the heavens for miles. If 
compunctious feelings visited the destroyers, they thought of the 
atrocities at Wyoming, and, after that, needed nothing to nerve them 
to the task. Even at this day only a morbid sensibility can censure 
this retaliation. It was necessary that the plough-share of ruin 
should be driven through the heart of that proud nation before peace 
could be secured to our frontier settlements. While the bones of 
innocent women and children still lay bleaching in the valley of 
Wyoming, it could not be expected that the homes of those savage 
invaders should be spared. From that day the once mighty nation 
of Iroquois was prostrated forever. 

Clinton was, for some time, in command of the northern depart- 
ment at Albany. He was subsequently attached to the main 
army, and was present at the capture of Cornwallis. When the 
British evacuated New York, Clinton made his last appearance in 
arms. He now retired to his ample estates. He was, however, not 
suff"ered always to enjoy the repose he had so fairly earned; but, on 
sev-eral occasions, was called, unsolicited, to civic honors. He was 
one of the convention that formed the present federal constitution. 

James Clinton was one of the sincerest patriots the Revolution af- 
forded. He was as superior in his qualifications for a military life, as 
his brother was in fitness for civil duties. In battle he was cool, ready 
and courageous. No crisis, however unexpected, destroyed the 
balance of his mind. In temper he was usually mild and affection- 
ate ; but his passions were strong, and when once aroused, terrific. 
The duties of ordinary life he discharged in an exemplary manner., 
His death occurred on the 22nd of December, 1812. 





JOHN Sullivan: 

OHN SULLIVAN, a Major-General 
in the continental army, was one of 
those military commanders whom mis- 
fortune seems to take pleasure in pursuing. 
Whatever he undertook, with but one ex- 
ception, failed. He began his career by re- 
treating from Canada, and ended it by a 
fruitless siege of Newport. The loss of the 
battles of Long Island and of Brandywine has 
always been attributed to him in popular history. Nor has he 
escaped condemnation altogether for the defeat at Germantown. 
Like St. Clair, he is censured more than he deserves, though, like 
that General, his misfortunes arose, in part, from his own faults. 
But Sullivan was an abler General than St. Clair. Indeed, on a 
review of his career, he appears to have possessed every requisite 
for a successful soldier, except the foresight to provide against possi- 
ble contingencies. Whatever share he had in the errors at Long 
Island and Brandywine is attributable entirely to a neglect of this 
prudential foresight. If he had caused the upper pass in the one 
case, and the higher fords in the other to be watched, defeat 
might probably have been averted, and victory possibly won. 
Napoleon never committed such oversights. This want of careful 
preparation on all points, was the great error of Sullivan's military 
career. His hasty temper, united with a spice of vanity, were his 

347 



348 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION 

foibles in social life. These two radical defects, one in the leader 
the othei in the man, explain the fail ares for which, at last, he 
became proverbial. 

Sullivan was born at Berwick, in the province of Maine, February 
the 17th, 1740. He was educated for the bar, and settled in Dur- 
ham, New Hampshire. Gifted with a fine voice, great self-posses- 
sion, a copious eloquence, and strong powers of reasoning, he soon 
rose to eminence among his fellow citizens. Distinguishing him- 
self on the colonial side, in the dispute then going on between 
America and England, he was elected a member of the first Congress. 
In December, 1774, two months after the Congress had adjourned, 
and four months prior to the battle of Lexington, he conunanded 
an expedition, in conjunction with the celebrated John Langdon, 
which seized the valuable stores in the fort at Portsmouth. Again 
elected to Congress, he was in attendance on that body when he 
received the appointment of Brigadier-General, and his ambition 
aspiring to distinction in military, rather than in civil affairs, he at 
once embarked in the new career thus opened to him. His first 
command was that of the army of Canada. Anxious to acquire a 
reputation, he was induced to protract the struggle there longer than 
was prudent, and the unfortunate defeat at the Three Rivers was 
the consequence. On his return to the States he found that Gates 
had been appointed to supersede him. Giving way to his natural impe- 
tuosity, he sent in his resignation, but through the prudent counsels 
of Washington, reconsidered his design. The next occasion on 
which he came before the pubhc eye was at the battle of Long 
Island, where he was General-in-chief of the troops without the 
lines. The defeat, on that occasion, as we have shown in the 
memoir of Stirlmg, arose from the Jamaica pass not being sufficiently 
guarded ; and as Sullivan had been on the ground longer than Put- 
nam, the censure, if any, must fall on him. He fought, however, 
with bravery when he found himself surrounded. Indeed, whatever 
faults Sullivan may have possessed, a want of courage was not one of 
them. He was taken prisoner in this battle, but soon after exchanged. 

He joined the army of Washington during the disastrous period 
immediately preceding the battle of Trenton ; and, when Lee was 
surprised and made captive by the enemy, assumed command of his 
division. He had now risen to the rank of Major-General, and was 
the senior ofticer of that description in the army. This entitled him 
to lead the right wing in the surprise at Trenton. His conduct in 
that battle conduced materially to the victory, a point which is 
overlooked by those who so unduly depreciate his services. He 
shared also in the glory of Princeton. During the next campaign, 



JOHN SULLIVAN. 349 

after Washington had advanced southward to meet Sir William 
Howe, Sullivan projected an expedition against Staten Island, in 
order to cut oif a detachment of the enemy, two thousand strong, 
whose incursions into New Jersey continually annoyed the people 
of that state. On the afternoon of the 21st of August he set out to 
execute his design. The various detachments into which he divided 
his forces crossed before day-break, and, for a while, everything 
promised success ; but, in the end, the British rallied, and coming up 
at a critical juncture, when the Americans were waiting for their 
boats, which had been carried off through a mistake, changed the 
fortune of the day. The loss on both sides, however, was about 
equal. One hundred and fifty prisoners were taken by Sullivan : one 
hundred and thirty by the British. The failure of this enterprise 
led to a court of inquiry on his conduct ; but the result was an 
honorable acquittal. However, as in the case of Arnold, his irritable 
temper and tone of defiance secretly increased the number of his 
foes, who, though at present smothering their resentment, waited for 
an opportunity to injure him. 

The occasion was not long wanting. Sir William Howe, having 
landed at the head of Elk, was now rapidly advancing on Philadel- 
phia ; and to defend that city Washington had taken post at Chad's 
Ford, on the Brandywine. But the British, instead of crossing the 
stream in face of his batteries, chose a safer plan for victory, and 
one they had already tried with success at Long Island. They 
resolved to amuse the Americans by a feigned attempt to cross, 
while the main body, taking a circuitous march, should gain Wash- 
ington's rear. A suspicion of such design having been entertained 
in camp, the Commander-in-chief sent for Sullivan, and desired him 
to watch the fords up the stream* A countryman, from whom a 
description of the fords had been obtained, was present at the inter- 
view, and, on Sullivan's enquiring if there were no other fords 
beside the three named, this person answered there were none, at 
least within twelve miles. This appears to have satisfied Sullivan, 
who contented himself with posting guards at the three fords 
described, without examining into the truth of the countryman's 
story. As Washington had delegated the whole matter to Sullivan, he 
relied confidently on that General to perform his duty faithfully ; 
but it is apparent, from what we have said, that Sulhvan took too 
much on hearsay. The only excuse for his remissness is the one he 
afterwards urged, that, owing to the scarcity of light horse, he could 
not patrol the country. , 

As the day advanced, Washington, perceiving the British did not 
cross to attack him, formed the bold design of taking the initiative 



350 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

himself, and was preparing to make the assault, when he received 
the startling intelligence that the main body of the enemy, led hy 
Sir William Howe and Cornwallis, after traversing a circuit of six- 
teen miles, had crossed the Brandywine above its forks, and was 
pouring down on his rear. The first positive information of this 
stratagem was brought to head-quarters by Thomas Cheney, Esq., 
a native of the vicinity, who, from patriotic motives, had been 
reconnoitering the shores of the Brandywine the whole morning. 
He was at a distance of several miles from the camp, when, sud- 
denly, on reaching the top of a hill, he came in view of the enemy. 
The British pursued and fired on him, but being mounted on a mare 
renowned for her fleetness, he escaped from his enemies, and arrived, 
breathless, at head-quarters. Here he demanded to see Washing- 
ton. The request was at first denied ; but his eagerness finally 
conquered, and he was admitted to the presence of the General. 
The Commander-in-chief, however, relying on Sullivan's accuracy^, 
refused to believe the information. Cheney replied warmly, " You 
are mistaken. General, my life for it, you are mistaken," and 
requested to be put under a guard and retained, so that if he proved 
a traitor he might suffer death. This earnestness shook Washing- 
ton's opinion. Cheney then drew, in the sand, a plan of the road- 
taken by Cornwallis. Washington was now satisfied. He immedi- 
ately despatched word to Sullivan, who lay about a mile up the 
Brandywine. By this time, however, that officer also had discovered 
the movement of the foe. All was now hurry and excitement. 
Washington hastily directed the three divisions of Sullivan, Stirling 
and Deborre to wheel and face Cornwallis. Accordingly they 
marched, by different routes, to a higii hill about three miles in the 
rear, at Birmingham Meeting House, where they had scarcely 
formed before the British advanced to the attack. The Hessians 
led the assault, and were sustained by the grenadiers. In a few 
minutes the American line began to break on the right, and the con- 
fusion immediately after became perceptible on the left also. Sulli*- 
van, whose seniority gave him the chief command, made the most 
desperate exertions to redeem the day. Throwing himself into Stir- 
ling's division, which formed the centre of the line, and which still 
stood its ground, he inspired the men by his personal daring, as well 
as by his exhortations, and it was not until nearly surrounded by 
the victorious enemy that he consented to retire. The whole three, 
divisions then retreated, Sullivan and Stirling bringing up the rear 
with siillen desperation ; while the British, cheering triumphantly, 
fo -lowed in pursuit. 
Washington, as soon as he heard that Cornwallis was in his rear, 



JOHN SULLIVAN. 351 

nad abandoned his arrangements for crossing the Brandy wine. He 
left Wayne, however, to defend the ford, while he moved Greene, 
with his division, some distance back from the river, in order that 
this officer might assist either SuUivan or Wayne, as circumstances 
should require. He remained in person, with his suite, at his head- 
quarters near the ford. When the firing began, in the direction of 
Birmingham Meeting House, he could not contain his anxiety ; but 
ordered a guide to be found to conduct him, by the shortest route, 
to the scene of strife. One was soon discovered, but objected to the 
task on account of his advanced age. On this he was peremptorily- 
told, by one of the suite, that if he did not at once mount the horse 
offered to him, he should be run through on the spot. This threat 
decided his scruples. The party dashed off across the field, leaping 
the fences : the horse of Washington keeping close to that of the 
guide. As the roar of the battle deepened, the anxiety of the Gene- 
ral increased, and he exclaimed continually, notwithstanding the 
wild gallop at which they went, "Push along, old man, push along!" 
When they had arrived within half a mile of the Meeting House, 
they met the Americans in full retreat. The bullets whistled by, 
and the shouts of the enemy rose close at hand. In the confusion 
the guide stole off. The genius of Washington was now directed 
to arrest the disasters of the day. Greene was posted in a ravme, 
between two woods, close at hand. As the fugitives came up, he 
opened his ranks and allowed them to pass through ; then, closing 
up again, stubbornly faced the foe. Meantime his artillery ploughed 
the dense masses of the British as they poured to the chase. The 
gallant front thus presented soon checked the ardor of the pursuit. 
Shortly after, Pulaski, borrowing the thirty life-guards of Wash- 
ington, plunged headlong into the enemy's ranks, carrying terror 
and confusion wherever he went, and effectually stopping the 
advance. The army, in the end, retired safely to Chester. Wayne, 
too, partook in the defeat, for Knyphausen, seizing the favorable 
moment when he knew the Americans to be engaged with Cornwal- 
lis, crossed the Brandy wine with all his force, on which Wayne 
abandoned his position, though not till he had learned the defeat of 
Sullivan, and the uselessness of farther resistance. 

The numbers of the two armies were very disproportionate in this 
battle, but not less so than their equipments, discipline and weapons. 
The British brought eighteen thousand rank and file into the field ; the 
Americans mustered only about eleven thousand able-bodied men. 
But this was the least part of the disparity between the combatants. 
The British were trained veterans ; the Americans only raw levies. 
The muskets of the British were all of similar bore, to which the 



352 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

cartridges fitted exactly, so that the ball flew with certain aim , the 
guns of the Americans were of every description, and consequently 
threw their shot wide of the mark. Yet, notwithstanding their dis- 
advantages, the Americans generally fought with the most desperate 
courage, the Virginia and Pennsylvania regiments particularly dis- 
tinguishmg themselves. It has been asked why Washington, on 
learning the circuitous route taken by Cornwallis, did not precipitate 
his whole force on Knyphausen, and crush that officer before aid 
could come up. But it must be remembered that the German Gen- 
eral had five thousand men, and held a strong position on the rise 
of a wooded hill, so that it is extremely doubtful whether Washing- 
ton, with his raw soldiers, could have dislodged him very easily. 
The Americans would have had to ford the stream in face of a 
driving shower from artillery, and charge up hill along a narrow 
road, where odds would have been of comparatively little avail. 
No person who has visited the battle-field can, for a moment, sup- 
pose that Washington would have succeeded before Knyphausen 
could have been succored. The nature of the ground, as well as 
the character of his forces alike forbade it. Besides, Washington 
was fighting to prevent the enemy reaching Philadelphia, and if he 
had abandoned the right bank of the Brandywine without a struggle, 
even the defeat of Knyphausen would have failed to excuse him in 
the eyes of Congress and the people. In short, any opinion on 
Washington's conduct is fallacious, which does not take into con- 
sideration the means at his disposal. What he might have done 
with veterans, is quite another question from what it was safe to 
undertake with raw levies. After Baron Steuben introduced the 
exact and rigid discipline of Prussia into our army, Washington was 
able to face the veterans of England on equal terms ; but to have 
risked an assault at Brandywine, wovild probably have been the 
ruin of his army. 

The remissness of Sullivan, in watching the fords, afforded his 
enemies an opportunity to assail his reputation more virulently than 
ever. Congress, lending an ear to the accusations, voted to suspend 
him until a court of inquiry should sit on his conduct ; but Wash- 
ington remonstrating against this decision, and declaring he could 
not face the enemy if his Generals were taken from him, the resolu- 
tion was rescinded. Still, it is clear that Sullivan was in fault, though 
not perhaps to an extent warranting a court martial. We cannot 
see, however, with some writers, that Washington shared this error. 
The duty in which Sullivan failed was an executive one : he was 
told to watch the fords, and failed to do so. It was Washington's 
duty to direct this precaution, and this he faithfully executed ; it was 



JOHN STTLLIVAN. 353 

Suilivan's duty to take the precaution, and this he only partially 
did. The blunders committed by Washington in this battle, if any, 
were in consequence of false intelligence, received from an inferior, 
on whose accuracy he relied. It would be as unjust to condemn 
Washington for Sullivan's remissness, as to blame Napoleon because 
Grouchy did not come up at Waterloo. 

The battle of Germantown followed, on the 4th of October, three 
weeks after the battle of Brandy wine. In this action Sullivan com- 
manded the American right. He drove in the enemy's outposts, 
and pursued them about two miles, to the centre of the vil- 
lage ; but here a sudden panic seized his men, and notwithstanding 
every eflfort on his part, they turned and fled. This battle also was 
'lost in consequence of the want' of discipline on the part of the 
Americans. This becomes apparent when the plan of the attack is 
understood. The British lay in the centre of the village, and at 
right angles with the prmcipal street. The attack was to be made 
in two columns, one directed against the enemy's right, the other 
against his left. Simultaneously he was to be assailed in rear from 
both flanks, and for this purpose two bodies of militia were 
despatched to turn his right and left respectively. The columns in 
front drove in the outposts, and pursued them to the main body, 
where the steady aspect of the British checked the advance of the 
victors. After a halt of a few minutes, each of these columns, 
without any communication with the other, but panic-struck, in part 
by their own temerity, in part by mistaking each other in the fog for 
the enemy, began to retire. The enemy, simultaneously recovering 
from his fright, advanced, and the retreat soon changed into an 
almost disorderly flight. A fortunate thought on the part of Wayne 
alone saved the army. Hastily opening a battery at the White 
Marsh Church, after the pursuit had continued seven miles, he 
checked the British, and covered the retreat in the same way that 
Greene had done at Brandywine. It has been supposed that a halt, 
made by a part of the reserve at Chevv^s House, produced the defeat. 
This is a mistake. It is probable that this accident contributed to 
hasten the repulse ; but it was impossible for the Americans to. have 
routed their enemy. The panic in Sullivan's division arose, in fact, 
from a false impression that the outposts were the main body, so 
that, when fresh troops appeared drawn up at the centre of the vil- 
lage, consternation seized the men. The victory, up to that point, had 
been altogether delusive. In a word, the battle of Germantown was lost 
in consequence of the undisciplined condition of the American army. 

In the ensuing winter Sullivan was despatched to take command 

of the troops in Rhode Island. In August, 1778, he laid siege to 
45 B. * 



354 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

Newport and was on the very point of success when the French 
Admiral, d'Estaing, who was co-operating with him, ahandoned the 
siege to join combat with a British fleet ofl" the harbor, and being 
shattered in a gale, repaired to Boston to relit. Sulh'van keenly felt 
this desertion. He was extremely eager for popularity, and having 
always been unfortunate, was the more desirous to succeed on the 
present occasion. Hence, when he found all his persuasions could 
not induce d'Estaing to remain, he allowed his indignation to break 
out in a reflection on his ally, contained in the general orders. An 
open rupture between Sullivan and the Admiral threatened to follow 
this indiscretion ; but, through the influence of LaFayette, the 
breach was healed and amicable relations restored. The withdrawal 
of d'Estaing, however, compelled the American General to retreat, 
which he did in the most masterly manner, without the loss of a 
single article. The next year he commanded the famous expedition 
against the Six Nations, a description of which has already been 
given in the memoir of General James Chnton. He now determined 
to retire from the arm}^ His failing health, and his pecuniary cir- 
cumstances, were the ostensible reasons for this resolution, though 
it may have been secretly assisted by the disgust, natural to an 
honorable mind, at finding its honest efforts misrepresented, and 
calumniation returned for all its sacrifices. For a large and bitter 
faction, composed partly of personal enemies created by his irritable 
temper, and partly by the remnants of the Conway cabal, which 
strove to strike at Washington through his friends, still pursued Sullivan 
with uhrelenting hostihty. Congress coldly accepted his resignation. 

He now returned to the practice of the law. In 1780 he was 
elected to Congress, but served only one term. In 1786, 1787, and 
1789, he was President of New Hampshire; and rendered himself 
conspicuous in quelling the spirit of revolt, which was visible there 
at the period of Shay's rebellion in Massachusetts. On the adoption 
of the federal constitution, and Washington's elevation to the Presi- 
dency, Sullivan was appointed the District Judge for New Hamp- 
shire. He continued in this office until his death, which occurred 
on the 22nd of January, 1795. 

Sullivan was a General of respectable talents. He had not the 
comprehensive mind of Greene, nor the headlong fury of Putnam , 
he was neither a great stategist, nor a splendid executive officer 
But, among second-rate men, he held a first-rate position. He was 
more unfortunate than he deserved. It is enough to say, in conclu- 
sion, that Washington always estimated his military talents favora- 
bly, and that the men who at first assailed his abilities lived to recant 
their opinions. 




HENRY KNOX 




HE man, who, of all others, siood 
first in Washington's affections, was 
Henry Knox, commander of the aitillery 
in the American army. The intellectua] 
quaUties of Knox, though not brilliant, 
^5^:5?-, were sound; but it was his moral ones 
that were pre-eminently deserving of 
esteem, and in consideration of which^ 
Washmgton bestowed on him the love and confidence of a brother. 
In every action where Washington appeared in person, Knox at- 
tended him ; in every council of war, Knox bore a part. One or two 
mistakes in judgment, he committed during his military career, as 
at Germantown, where he was the cause of the delay at Chew^s 
mansion ; but these were amply redeemed by his advice on other 
'occasions, as at the battle of Assunpink, where, with Greene, he 
recommended the bold movement on the communications of Corn- 
waliis, which victoriously terminated the campaign. His services at 

3^5 



356 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLtTTlON. 

the head of the ordnance were invaluable. He assumed command 
of that branch of the army in the first year of the war, and continued 
at its head until the close of the contest. At the battle of Monmouth, 
the manner in which he handled his guns awakened the admiration 
of the enemy, and in fact contributed, more perhaps than anything 
else, to repel the last desperate assault. Greene had so high an 
opinion of Knox that, when Washington offered to the former the com- 
mand of the southern army, he proposed Knox in his stead ; but the 
American chief, with a better knowledge of the men, made an eva- 
sive reply and pressed the post on Greene ; for Knox, though a good 
executive officer, and possessed of an admirable judgment, was not 
equal to Greene in patient endurance, in far-sighted views, in ex- 
haustless resources : iMdeed no man except Washington was. 

Knox was a native of Boston, in which town he was born, on the 
25th of July, 1750. Prior to the war of independence, he followed, 
for a time, the occupation of a book-seller. He early displayed a 
taste for military affairs, and in 1774 was chosen an officer in one 
of the volunteer companies which, about that period, sprung up in 
such numbers, in vague anticipation of a war. He soon became 
distinguished among his fellow soldiers for his knowledge of tactics, 
for his strict discipline, for his industry, energy and resources. He 
was particularly remarkable for the attention he paid to the artillery 
service, a branch of military science for which he always shewed a 
predilection, and in which he was destined peculiarly to distinguish 
himself His first connexion with this department occurred imme- 
diately after the battle of Lexington. Knox had not been engaged 
in that struggle, but a few days subsequent to it, he made his escape 
from Boston, and joining his countrymen in arms at Cambridge, 
offered to undertake the arduous task of transporting from Ticonde- 
roga and Canada, the heavy ordnance and military stores captured 
there by the Americans. The energetic spirit of the young man, and 
the handsome manner in which he executed a task, abounding with 
what some would have considered impossibilities, attracted the es- 
pecial notice of Washington, and Knox, in consequence, was rewarded 
with the command of this very artillery, most of which he employed, 
with good service, in the siege of Boston. He owed his advance- 
ment, in part also, to his superior knowledge of the department, there 
being, at that period, few persons in America competent for the office 
Thus, at the age of twenty-five, he found himself occupying one of 
the most responsible positions in the army. 

From this period, Knox remained with Washington, taking part 
in all the principal battles fought by that General. Occupying a 



HENRY KNOX. 357 

subordinate position, however, he had few opportunities of especial 
distinction ; but when these arose, he always acquitted himself with 
honor. The confidence which Washington reposed in him, was a 
source of jealousy to others of the officers, and, to a certain extent, 
in consequence, the abilities of Knox have been depreciated by the 
voice of envy. A favorite charge against him is that he advised the 
unfortunate delay at Chew's mansion, during the battle of German- 
town, which is thought to have assisted in producing defeat on that 
occasion ; but, in justice to Knox, it must be remembered that though 
the halt was made at his suggestion, others shared in the^ responsi- 
bility ; and, moreover, the leaving a garrisoned house, or other fort, 
in the rear of an advancing army was, at that period, and indeed 
until Napoleon changed the whole art of war, regarded as a fatal 
error. 

The life of Knox, after the close of the war, was comparatively 
uneventful. On the resignation of Major-General Lincoln, as Secre- 
tary of War, under the old confederation, Knox was appointed to 
supply his place; and in 1789, on the organization of the present 
federal government, he was selected by Washington for the same 
high and honorable office. In 1794 he retired from this post of 
dignity, and settled, with his family, at Thomaston, in Maine, where 
his wife, a descendant of General Waldo, possessed large tracts of 
land. He sat at the council board of Massachusetts for some years, 
Maine, at that period, being a dependency of the former state. In 
both private and public life he bore an unimpeachable cliaracter. 
Mild, generous, the soiil of honor, charitable to the poor, to his 
equals affable, few men, of that or any succeeding generation, have 
been more deservedly esteemed than General Knox. His person 
was remarkably noble ; and his manners were elegant and refined. 
He was fond of literature, a taste, perhaps, acquired in his youthful 
profession. General Knox died suddenly, on the 25th of October, 
1806, from mortification arising from swallowing a chicken-bone. 

Knox was the founder of the society of Cincinnati. For many 
years he lived on his estates in Maine in a style of almost princely 
magnificence. It was not an unusual thing for him to make up in 
summer one hundred beds daily in his house, and to kill an ox and 
twenty sheep every Monday morning. He kept several pairs of 
carriage horses, and twenty saddle horses, principally for the use of 
his guests. A style of living so expensive at last impaired his for- 
tune. He had counted on almost boundless wealth from the sales 
of his lands, but his expectations were disappointed. Having lived 
on the most familiar terms with General Lincoln, Colonel Jackson, 



358 



THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 



and other officers of the Revolution, when he failed the two former 
gentlemen were his endorsers to a latge amount. An interview took 
place to see what arrangement could be made to liquidate the debts 
of Knox. For awhile there was profound silence ; then Knox, look- 
ing up, met the eye of Lincoln, whose confidence he had unwittingly- 
abused, and burst into tears. Lincoln brushed his own eyes and 
said, " This will never do, gentlemen, we have come here to transact 
business," and took up a paper. The whole three lived together 
like brothers. The anecdote is narrated on the authority of the 
Honorable William Sullivan, who was present, in his professional 
capacity, at the meeting. 






BARON STEUBEN. 




REDERICK 
William Au- 
gustus, Bar- 
on Steuben, a 
Major -Gene- 
ral in the con- 
tinental army, 
was born, it 
is believed, in 
Suabia, in the 
year 1730. He 
served with 
distinction in 
the army of 
the great Fre- 
derick, attained tbe honor of Aid-de-camp to that monarch, and, at 
the peace of 1763, when he retired from Prussia, was presented by 
the King with a canonry in the cathedral of Harelburg. His military 
talents were still remembered in Berlin, many years afterwards; for 
when Congress applied to the diiferent European courts for a tran- 
script of their military codes, the Prime Minister of Frederick replied 
that their regulations had never been published, but that the Baron 
^ 359 



360 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

Steuben, who was in America, could gi^'e the necessary information, 
as he was acquainted with the minutest details of the Prussian sys< 
tem. 

On his retirement from Berlin, Baron Steuben went to Holienzol 
len-Hechingen, where he was made Grand Marshal of the Co art, 
and appointed Colonel of the circle of Suabia. In the year 1767, the 
Prince Margrave of Baden bestowed on him the title of General, 
with the chief command of the troops. The income of Steuben now 
amounted to about three thousand dollars, which was a sufficiently 
ample sum for his rank so long as he remained a bachelor. He had, 
therefore, no idea of abandoning his comparatively lucrative em- 
ployments, and embarking in an uncertain contest in a distant land ; 
especially at his advanced years. But, happening to visit Paris, he 
was prevailed on to oflfer his services to the American Congress, by 
the solicitations of the French minister, who, although the Court of 
Versailles had not yet declared in favor of the Americans, desired 
secretly to aid them, by sending over some experienced officer to 
train and discipline the troops. Accordingly, on the 26th of Septem- 
ber, 1777, Steuben, with his suite, set sail from Marsailles, having 
first resigned all his employments in Europe. 

Dr. Franklin, though anxious to secure the services of the Baron, 
had declined making any arrangement with Steuben, his powers not 
authorizing him to do so. On his arrival in America, therefore, 
Steuben waited on Congress with his recommendations, stating that 
he came to act as a volunteer until it should be seen whether his 
assistance would be of value or not ; that, if his services proved no 
acquisition, he should ask no compensation ; but that, if they were 
beneficial, he would trust in the honor of Congress to remunerate 
him for the income he had sacrificed and give him whatever further 
allowance might be thought deserved. These modest terms were 
immediately acceded to by Congress, and Steuben ordered to repair 
to head-quarters. 

At this period the Army was at Valley Forge, suffering all the 
horrors of an inclement winter, without proper food, shelter or 
clothing. Five thousand men were in the hospitals. Discipline had 
almost disappeared in the general suffering. Indeed there never 
had been yet, in the American army, that vigorous attention to this 
subject which distinguished the camps of Europe ; and the disastrous 
consequences weie felt whenever the raw levies of Washington met 
the trained veterans of Great Britain in the open field. There was 
no general system of tactics employed, but the men from each state 
drilled differently. Many were ignorant of the manual exercise; 



BARON STEUBEN. 



a(>i 



very few understood field movements : and, to add to the evil, the 
officers were as untaught as the common soldiers. The utmost 
carelessness prevailed in the use of arms, the discharged recruits 
frequently carrying home their equipments, while the new levies 
always came without weapons, so that it was customary to allow 
five thousand muskets beyond the numbers of the muster roll, to 
supply the waste. Washington had long seen and regretted this, 
evil. But he had sought in vain for a remedy. The arrival of 
Baron Steuben, however, at once relieved him of his difficulty, for 
he saw thar, in this experienced veteran, he had found the very man 
so long desired. The Baron immediately undertook the task of 
drilling the men, and inspecting their weapons. He trained a com- 
pany himself as a beginning. After partially instructing the officers 
as well as the privates, for a considerable time, he began to reap the 
fruits of his exertions. The army assumed coherence. The troops 
manoeuvred with the precision of veterans. There was no longer 
any waste of arms and ammunition. But this reform was not 




BABON STEUBEN DRILLING THE AMEF.ICAN AU.\1\. 



brought about until after great perseverence and much vexation on 
he part of the Baron. His almost entire ignorance of our language, 
nis impetuous temper, and the blunders of the troops, frequently 



46 



362 THE HERC^ES OF THE REVOLUTION 

conspired to produce the most ludicrous scenes. On one of these 
occasions, after exhausting all the execrations he could think of in 
German and French, he called despairingly to one of his Aids, 
" Venez, Walker, mon ami ' Sacre, de gaucherie of dese badants, 
je ne puis plus. I can curse dem no more.'^ 

The Baron had been in the camp but a short time when Wash- 
ington wrote to Congress. " I should do injustice, if I were to be longer 
silent with regard to the merits of Baron Steuben. His expectations 
with respect to rank extend to that of Major-General. His finances, 
he ingenuously confesses, will not admit of his serving without the 
incidental emoluments ; and Congress, I presume, from his character, 
and their own knowledge of him, will without difficulty gratify hin; 
in these particulars." On the 5th of May, 1778, Steuben was, ac- 
cordingly, appointed Inspector-General, with the rank and pay of a 
Major-General. The department of inspection was now arranged 
on a permanent footing, and thoroughly systematized. The Baron, 
finding the European military systems too complicated, varied them 
so as to be adapted to the condition and character of the American 
army; and, in 1779, he pubhshed, at the request of Congress, a work 
on discipline and inspection, which continued, until after the close 
of the century, to be the standard in most of the states. It was 
owing in a great measure to the instructions of the Baron that the 
American troops acquitted themselves at Monmouth so much like 
veterans. He was justly proud of his own services and of the 
proficiency of his pupils. He wrote, on a subsequent occasion, 
" Though we are so young that we scarce begin to walk, we have 
already taken Stony Point and Paulus Hook, at the point of the 
bayonet and without firing a single shot." Perhaps the advantages 
of discipline were never exhibited so strikingly as in the superior 
efficacy of the American soldiers after Steuben's arrival in this 
country. He found the troops raw militia : he made them resolute 
veterans. On his arrivrd, Washington, from necessity, was still 
fighting with the pickax 3 and the spade ; but within a year Steuben 
had rendered the men fit to cope in the open field, even with the 
renowned grenadiers of CornwaUis. The magic wand by which he 
did this was discipline. 

In July 1778, the Baron became desirous of exchanging his post 
as Inspector-General for a command of equal honor in the regular 
line. Hitherto, in consequence of his being attached to a distinct 
department, his rank as Major-General had not interfered with the 
claims of any one ; but, if his request had been granted, the promo- 
tion of all the Brigadiers in succession would have had to be post- 



BARON STEUBEN. 363 

poned. Congress accordingly, at Washington's suggestion, declined 
acceding to this desire. At the same time, however, that body 
confirmed Steuben's absolute authority m the department of Inspec- 
tor-General, in opposition to the claims of the Inspector-General in 
the army of Gates, who asserted his independence of Steuben. The 
Baron, perhaps, recognized the justice of the refusal, for he never 
renewed the request. He was, however, occasionally indulged in a 
separate command whenever circumstances would allow it. In 1780 
he was sent to join the army of Greene, but remained in Virginia to 
prepare and forward recruits. The invasion of Cornwallis found him 
thus engaged, and he had the satisfaction, after joining his forces to 
those of LaFayette, to follow up the fugitive General, and command 
in the trenches at Yorktown on the day when a capitulation was 
proposed, a post of honor which he maintained, in accordance with 
the usages of European warfare, until the British flag was struck. 

After the peace, the Baron was reduced to comparative want. In 
vain he applied to Congress to remunerate him for what he had 
sacrificed in its behalf: for while the propriety of his claim was 
admitted, no active measures were taken to liquidate it. For seven 
years he fruitlessly petitioned the nation for justice. At last, on the 
adoption of the federal constitution, an act was passed by Congress 
to give him an annuity of twenty-five hundred dollars. Meantime, 
however, Virginia and New Jersey had each presented him with a 
small gift of land ; and New York had voted him sixteen thousand 
acres in the Oneida tract. But he did not live many years to enjoy it. 
On the 25th of November, 1794, he was struck with paralysis and 
died three days afterwards. He was buried in the forest, on his 
farm, not far from Utica. Subsequently, a road having been laid 
out to run over his grave, his remains were taken up and re-interred 
at a little distance, where a monument was erected over the ashes. 

Steuben was of incalculable service to the American cause by 
introducing the European discipline into the army. He made an 
excellent General for regulars, but could not manage mihtia with 
any success. In disposition he was affectionate, generous and warm- 
hearted. He had, in many things, the simplicity of a child. His 
temper was quick, but he was always ready to make amends for 
injustice. On one occasion he had arrested an officer for throwing 
the line into disorder, but, finding him innocent, he apologized, the 
next day, at the head of the regiment, his hat off, and the rain pour- 
ing on his silvery head. In Virginia he sold his camp equipage to 
give a dinner to the French officers, declaring that he wouid keep 
up the credit of the army even if he had to eat from a wooden spoon 



364 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



for the rest of his Ufe. When the troops were being disbanded, ana 
he had the cheerless prospect of a penny less old age before him, he 
gave almost his last dollar to a brother officer with a family, who 
was too poor to return home. Cheerful in the gloomiest affairs, 
generous to a fault, a little vain of his rank, a warm friend, a hearty 
enemy to meanness : such was Baron Steuben. May his name be 
long held in remembrance by that country for which he sacrificed 
so much ! 





CHARLES LEE 




^ HARLES LEE, a Major-General 
in the American army, was one of 
'those erratic men in whom passion 
triumphs over reason, and preju- 
dice frequently over both. He 
possessed unquestionable ability, but, exercising no 
^control over his temper, was always dangerous to 
himself and others. An Englishman by birth he 
became a Republican from whim ; ambition rather 
than patriotism led him to embark in the American 
cause ; impatient of control he aspired after a sepa- 
rate, if not the supreme command; haughty and 
irascible, he invited a trial of popularity between 
Washington and himself, and was punished, for his 
extravagant self-conceit, by the loss of public confi- 
dence : in short, he was a man whose whole life presented a series 
of blunders, and who, beginning with every advantage on his side, 
finished, through his own folly, in disappointment, obscurity and 
disgrace ! His violent passions were the ruin of the once celebrated 
Charles Lee. 

FF* 365 



366 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

Charles Lee was the son of General John Lee, of Dernhall, hi 
Cheshire, England; and was born in 173L He was naturally of 
quick parts and made rapid advances in education. At eleven years 
of age he received a commission in the army. His first experience 
in the field, however, was during the old French war. He came to 
x^merica in 1757, shortly after having purchased a Captaincy in the 
twenty-fourth regiment of infantry ; and, at the memorable assault 
on Ticonderoga, was wounded while attempting to penetrate the 
French breastworks. He recovered in time for the ensuing cam- 
paign, and was one of the expedition against Fort Niagara. After 
the defeat of the enemy, Lee, with a small party, was sent to dis- 
cover what became of the remnant of the army ; and it was these 
troops which were the first English ones that crossed Lake Erie : 
he passed down the western branch of the Ohio to Fort Pitt, and, in 
his return, marched seven hundred miles across the country to Crown 
Point. In 1760, Lee was with the expedition that captured Mon- 
treal. After the close of the war in America he returned to England, 
ind soon after, being promoted to a Lieutenant-Colonelcy, was sent 
out to Portugal, with the forces destined to aid that ancient ally of 
England in her contest with Spain. Here he acquitted himself with 
gallantry, especially in a night assault on the Spanish forces, which 
drew down encomiums from all parties. The strife ended in a single 
campaign, and Lee returned to England. 

Lee, from the period of his service in America, had always taken 
a lively interest in its affairs : and he now drew up a plan, and sub- 
mitted it to the ministry, for colonizing the country on the Ohio be- 
low the Wabash, and in Illinois. The ministry rejected his plan. 
Soon after the difficulties between the mother country and the colo- 
nies began ; and Lee, guided probably as much by personal dislike 
as by his political tendencies, embarked in the controversy against 
England. His active and restless spirit having no longer the stimu- 
los of war to feed its love of excitement, he plunged into the tur- 
moil of politics and soon proved himself possessed of a ready pen. 
His wit was scorching, his invective bitter, his boldness as a writer 
captivating to the popular taste. In the midst of this dispute, the 
threat of a war in Poland arrested his attention : the love of glory, 
the thirst of rank, and a chivalrous sentiment in favor of that ancient 
and abused nation, determined him to off'er her his services. He 
went in the true spirit of a knight-errant and was received favorably 
by Stanislaus, who had just been elected King. He remained two 
fears in Poland, but as hostiUties did not break out, he became dis- 
satisfied with inaction, and from mere restlessness accompanied the 



CHARLES LEE. 367 

Polish embassy to Constantinople. Abandoning the mission, in order 
to advance with more celerity, he came near perishing of cold and 
hunger on the Bulgarian mountains. At the close of 1766 he re- 
turned to England, with a letter of recommendation to the King, 
and solicited promotion: but, though many promises were made 
him, they were never fulfilled, his former violent invectives, and a 
letter attacking General Townsend and Lord Sackville, attributed 
to him, preventing any favors from the ministry. Lee, at last, 
find nig he had been trified with, and that he possessed no chance 
of promotion in England, gave way to a violent resentment against 
the King personally and the party in power. This hostility remained 
with him to his grave. During his visit to his native country, he con- 
tinued in intimate correspondence with King Stanislaus, and finally in 
December, 1768, leaving London on a visit to the south of France, met 
Prince Czartorinsky in Paris, and was induced to accompany him to 
Warsaw. Here the King received him as a brother, and made him 
a Major-General. The purpose of Lee in returning to Poland was to 
enter the Russian service : but he could not forget the animosities 
he bore against the government at home. In one of his letters to a 
friend in England, after saying how unpopular his native country 
was in Poland, he says: "A French comedian was the other day 
near being hanged, from the circumstance of his wearing a bob-wig, 
which, by the confederates, is supposed to be the uniform of the 
English nation. / wish to God the three branches of our Legisla- 
ture would take it into their heads to travel through the woods of 
Poland in bob-wigs.^^ This little stroke of wit shews, at once, his 
bitter animosity and his fatal ability in expressing it. It goes far 
towards unravelling the riddle of his failure in life. 

In 1769 he joined the Russian army on the Neister, and served 
during that year's campaign. As usual, he abused the superior 
officers. A severe rheumatism attacking him 'he visited Vienna and 
afterwards Italy, everywhere mingling in the highest society. In 
1770 he returned again to England. Here he plunged once more 
into the angry sea of political strife ; and the man who had been 
the friend of kings, became the asserter of republican principles. 
His reputation as a writer has procured for him, since his death, the 
credit with some persons, of being the author of Junius ; but it is 
sufficient to say that the evidence in favor of this claim is entirely 
insufficient, and that to Sir Philip Francis more justly belongs that 
honor. In 1773, in anticipation of a war, he sailed for America. 
and on his cirrival, made no secret of his intention to reside in 
New York. The zeal he displayed in the cause of the colonies, his 



S68 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

eloquent declamation, and the romance that hung about a man who 
had ofiered his sword to Poland, and crossed blades with the Ottoman, 
soon won him the hearts of the people, as well as the confidence of 
the leaders, and opened to his ambitious soul the prospect of a daz- 
zling career. He had formerly been intimate with General Gage, 
but did not now call on that officer, or pay him any tokens of re- 
spect : a course of conduct which he defended in a public letter, 
complimentary to Gage as a man, but not as a patriot. A somewhat 
similar letter, in which the controversy between the colonies and the 
mother country was examined, he wrote to Lord Percy. After tra- 
velling tlirough the middle, and subsequently the eastern provinces, 
Lee returned to Philadelphia in time for the session of the first Con- 
gress. Here he became acquainted with the members, and paved 
the way for the future confidence they reposed in him. A well 
timed pamphlet assisted him in this. Dr. Myles Cooper, of New 
York, an Episcopal clergymen, a very excellent divine but altogether 
a pretender in politics, wrote what he called, " A Friendly Address 
to all Reasonable Americans," in which he argued, in effect, for pas- 
sive obedience, and undertook to terrify the colonists with the formi- 
dable armies of Great Britain. This foolish affair falling in Lee's 
way, he attacked it with such logic and declamation, as hooted it at 
once into disgrace, and elevated Lee even higher than before, in the 
esteem of the country. Li consequence, when the army came to be 
formed in the succeeding year, he was elevated to the rank of second 
Major-General, and would have been made first, but that Congress 
could not avoid giving that rank to General Ward, whom they had 
displaced from the post of Commander-in-chief, by the election of 
Washington. The resignation of Ward soon made Lee second in 
command. It is probable he had, at one time, entertained hopes of 
being placed at the head of the army, but to this his foreign birth 
presented an insuperable objection. He acquiesced for a time, how- 
ever, generously, if not candidly, in the decision. 

Before accepting this commission, Lee resigned the one. he held 
in the British army, but characteristically observed that whenever his 
majesty should call on him to fight against the enemies of his coun- 
try, or in defence of his just rights and dignity, no man would obey 
the summons with more alacrity. By thus declaring himself on the 
American side, he jeopardized an income of nearly one thousand 
pounds, besides other property, which it was in the power of the 
King to confiscate, nor did he make any stipulation with Congress to 
be indemnified, though that body, not to be outdone in generosity, 
resolved, as recorded on the secret journal, that Lee should be remU' 



CHARLES LEE. S69 

nerated for any loss he might sustain in the service. On arriving at 
Cambridge, General Lee was assigned the comnmnd of the left wing 
(){ the army, and was received with a respect second only to that 
awarded to Washington. His experience in military affairs was of 
the most essential service to the cause at this period. The high esti- 
mation in which he stood, as well as his elevated rank, induced the 
Commander-in-chief to send him to take command of New York, on 
the rumor of an expedition by Clinton against that place. He de- 
sired this post particularly, and was especially indignant against the 
tories who were so numerous there : " not to crush these serpents,'' 
he said, " before their rattles are grown, would be ruinous." 

The citizens of New York were alarmed at the approach of Gene- 
ral Lee, for they feared his presence would be a signal for the Bri- 
tish armed ships in the harbor to fire on the town. Lee, however, 
prudently quieted their fears. He fortified the town, adopted strin- 
gent measures against the tories on Long Island, and was active in 
enlarging and disciplining the force preparatory for the defence of 
the place. While thus busily employed, intelligence was received 
of the death of Montgomery, and Lee, within two weeks after his 
arrival at New York, was selected to succeed him. The words in 
which John Adams alluded to this choice were highly flattering. 
"We want you at New York," he said, "we want you at Cam- 
bridge ; we want you in Virginia ; but Canada seems of more im- 
portance than any of these places, and therefore you are sent there." 
In a few days, however, his destination was changed for the south- 
ern department, it having been ascertained that Sir Henry Clinton 
intended proceeding thither. On his way to South Carolina, Lee 
stopped in Virginia and rendered himself useful against Lord Dun- 
more. He here caused armed boats to be constructed for the rivers, 
and attempted to form a body of cavalry. He advised the seizure 
of General Eden. An intercepted correspondence between Lord 
George Germain and that gentleman, revealing that the purpose of the 
enemy was to proceed to the more southern colonies, Lee speedily 
moved towards North, and afterwards to South Carolina, where, 
at the head of an army hastily collected, he prepared to resist the 
enemy on landing, a contingency which did not occur, the gallant 
defence of Fort Sullivan rendering Lee's forces useless. 

After being in command of the southern department six months, 
he was recalled to the north by Congress, and on the 14th of Octo- 
ber, joined the army on the Hudson, where the charge of the right 
wing was committed to him. He arrived in time to urge strongly, 
in a council of war, the impolicy of garrisoning Fort Washington, 
47 



370 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

and the result justified his views ; but Congress, had, in fact, decided 
in favor of the measure, by desiring the Commander-in-chief, '^ by 
e\^ery act, to obstruct effectually the navigation of the North River 
between Fort Washington and Mount Constitution." Subseq^uently, 
when the British forced the chevaux-de-frise and ascended beyond 
the forts, Washington wrote to General Greene, expressing an opin- 
ion in favor of abandoning the fort ; but the latter was too sanguine, 
and hence the loss of the place. Now ensued the terrible retreat 
through the Jerseys. Up to this period the conduct of General Lee 
had been not only meritorious, but highly praiseworthy ; but from 
this time it began to assume a dubious aspect. When the retreat 
commenced he had been stationed with the rear of the army, in num- 
ber about seven thousand five hundred men ; and Washington, 
every day more hard pressed by the enemy, continued writing for 
him to hasten to the main army. These messages were sent from 
Hackensack, Newark, Brunswick, and Trenton, at first requesting, 
then urging Lee to bring up his troops by the speediest route. Lee 
desired Heath, who commanded in the Highlands, to send forward 
two thousand of his men, but this he refused to do, when a sharp 
altercation ensued, Lee commanding as Heath's superior officer. 
Heath pleading the orders of Washington ; the latter of whom, on 
being referred to, sustained Heath. At last Lee put his troops in 
motion, his force now consisting of three thousand men, the remain- 
der having returned home on the expiration of their enlistments. 
Messages continually arrived from Washington, pressing the lagging 
General to hurry forward. It m^ust be recollected that this was the 
crisis of the Revolution ; that dark hour just before the battle of Tren- 
ton, when the patriotism of New Jersey was already shi\^ering in 
the wind ; when secret traitors in the American camp plotted deser- 
tion ; when the cause hung by a single thread only, and everything 
depended on the strength and fidelity of Washington's little army. 
The tardiness of Lee at such a time, when the junction of his troops 
would have doubled the force of the Commander-in-chief, is inexcu- 
sable, and must fill all candid minds with distrust. The only rational 
explanation of his conduct is that he had already become alienated 
from Washington, and sought to plunge him into inextricable diffi- 
culties in revenge. Or, perhaps, that he hoped to be able to achieve 
some brilliant deed on his own responsibility, which should enable 
him to aspire to the supreme command, in case of the capture of 
Washington, of his death in battle, or of his removal by Congress. 

But these calculations were frustrated by two unforseen events, 
tne capture of Lee himself, and Washington's victory at Trenton. 



CHARLES LEE. 371 

1 ie was made a prisoner at Baskingridge, on the 1 3th of December, 
ten days after he crossed the Hudson. For some reasons, never ex- 
plained, Lee had taken up his quarters for the night, with a smah 
guard, at a soUtary house about three miles from his encampment. 
A tory, discovering this fact, commimicated it to Colonel Harcourt, 
a spirited British officer, at that time scouring the country with a 
party of dragoons. Here, just after breakfast, the Colonel surprised 
Lee, and placing him on a horse, without a hat, clad only in a 
blanket-coat and slippers, galloped off with him in triumph to the 
British army at Brunswick. His capture, notwithstanding his late 
conduct, was regarded as a serious blow by the Americans. The 
public sympathy soon became warmly aroused in his favor, espe- 
cially when it was understood that he was to be sent to England 
for trial as a deserter ; and Congress immediately ordered five Hes- 
sian field-officers, and Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell, then a prisoner 
in Boston, to be imprisoned until the British should consent to treat 
Lee as a prisoner of war, and exchange' him on equitable terms. 
Howe, in this emergency, wrote home for instructions, and the Min- 
ister, taking counsel of prudence, yielded. The negotiation, however, 
consumed nine months, during all which time Lee was uncertain of 
his fate. He probably owed his life to the firm attitude assumed in 
his behalf, by Congress and the Commander-in-chief. 

Lee joined the American army, after his exchange, at Valley 
Forge, in May, 1778. But he did not return to the service with his 
old popularity. Other officers, meantime, had performed brilliant 
deeds, and shorn him of the laurels which he might have gained if 
free. The mode of his capture wore an air of the ridiculous, and 
appeared such as no judicious officer could possibly encounter. 
Moreover, the remembrance of his conduct in delaying to join 
Washington produced unfavorable impressions towards him; for 
men said that a subordinate ought to obey, right or wrong, and 
leave the responsibility with his superior. There appeared, on a 
review of his career, a general assumption of authority on the part 
of Lee, a haughtiness, an irascibihty of temper, a scorn and self- 
conceit which not all his chivalry, his frankness, and his devotion to 
the cause of liberty could make the public forget ; and though pity 
for his late misfortunes, for the present kept these feelings in the back- 
ground, a circumstance soon occurred, which revived them in all 
their force, and by exhibiting the unfavorable points of his character 
in a stronger light than ever, produced the permanent ruin of Lee 
We allude, of course, to the battle of Monmouth. 

No sooner was it known, in the American camp, that Clinton had 



372 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

abandoned Philadelphia, and begun his retreat through New-Jersey, 
than Washington, about the middle of June, 1778, set his troops in 
motion for the pursuit. The Commander-in-chief was anxious to 
join battle with his adversary; but to this his officers were almost 
unanimously opposed. The British General's first intention had 
TDeen to reach New York by the way of Brunswick, but after ascend- 
ing the Delaware as far as Bordentown, he learned that Washington 
had already occupied the high grounds which commanded that 
route. He was accordingly forced to abandon his original design, 
and, turning off toward Crosswicks, he proceeded through Allentown 
to Monmouth Court House, intending to reach South Amboy in this 
more circuitous way. At Monmouth Court House he rested for 
several days, having chosen, for his position, a wooded hill, sur- 
rounded by swamps, and almost inaccessible. 

During this retreat Washington had moved along the more ele- 
vated grounds to the northward, in nearly a parallel line to his 
enemy, thus retaining the power to give or withhold battle. No 
means of annoying Sir Henry, meantime, were neglected. A strong 
corps hung on his left flank, a regiment followed on his rear, and 
Colonel Morgan watched his right. Washington appears to have 
secretly wished for a battle during the whole march, and as the 
British approached the end of their journey he gradually drew his 
forces around them. He now again called a council of his officers, 
and proposed that battle should be given. But the measure was 
negatived a second time. It wais, however, agreed that the corps 
on the left flank of the enemy should be strengthened, and that the 
main body of the army should move in close vicinity to it, so as to 
be at hand to support it in case of an emergency. Among those 
who opposed a battle were Generals Lee and Du Portail, and the 
venerable Baron Steuben. These officers considered the discipline 
of the Americans so inferior to that of the British, as to render 
defeat inevitable, in case the two armies should engage on equal 
terms ; and the influence of their opinions brought over most of the 
junior officers to that side. Wayne, Cadwalader, La Fayette and 
Greene, appear to have been the only ones who differed from the 
council ; and the two first alone were openly in favor of a battle. 
When the council decided so much against his wishes, Washington 
resolved to act on his own responsibility. The British were already 
approaching Monmouth ; twelve miles further on were the Heights 
of Middletown. If the enemy reached these latter all hope of bring- 
ing him to an action, unless with his own consent, would be gone. 
The blow, if struck at all, must be given at once. 



CHARLES LEE. 373 

To bring on a battle, Washington resolved to strengthen still fur- 
ther the force on the enemy's left flank,. now the advanced corps: 
and accordingly he detached Wayne to join it with a thousand men. 
This command, about four thousand strong, was thought of sufficient 
importance to be entrusted to one of the Major-Generals ; and the post, 
of right, belonged to Lee. But having advised against the battle, and 
believing nothing serious was intended, he allowed La Fayette to take 
his place. Scarcely had he yielded, however, before he learned the 
importance of the post, and solicited Washington to restore it to 
him ; " otherwise," to use his own phrase, " both he and Lord Stir- 
ling, (the seniors of La Fayette) would be disgraced." To spare 
his feelings, Washington suggested a compromise. He sent Lee to 
join the Marquis, with two additional brigades ; but, in order that 
the feelings of La Fayette might not be wounded, he stipulated that 
if any scheme of attack had been formed for the day, Lee should 
not interfere with it. The intelligence of this change, and of the 
stipulation he had made, Washington himself communicated to La 
Fayette. No plan of attack, however, had been formed, and by the 
night of the 27th Lee, was in full command of the advanced corps. 

His army lay at Englishtown, not five miles distant from Mon- 
mouth, where the British were encamped. Washington, with the 
rear division, was but three miles behind ; and almost his last duty, 
before he retired, was to send word for Lee to attack the enemy as soon 
as Clinton should have begun his march. He also detached Greene, 
with a sufficient force, to move on the enemy's flank, taking a cir- 
cuitous route in order to fall into the main road again, just before 
reaching Monmouth Court House. These arrangements were known 
at the outer posts, and a battle on the morrow prognosticated : so 
that the sentry, as he walked his rounds during that short summer 
night, speculated often on the fortunes of the coming day. 

The morning had scarcely dawned, when the British army began 
its march, Knyphausen with the baggage going first, while Corn- 
wallis, with the flower of the army, followed behind. This arrange- 
ment was adopted by Clinton, in consequence of having become 
aware of the movements of the Americans on his flank ; and, like 
an able General, he strengthened his rear for the combat which he 
began to see was inevitable in that quarter. As there was but a 
single road for his army to traverse, the train of baggage wagons 
and of horses reached for twelve miles. Accordingly, although the 
van of the column began to move at four o'clock, the rear of it did 
not get into motion until nearly eight ; and it was not until after 
this hour that the grenadiers of Cornwallis, with Clinton and him- 

GG 



374 » THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

self at their head, left the heights of Freehold, where they had been 
encamped during the night, and began to descend into the wooded 
plain below, through which the road wound for miles, amid woods, 
swamps and low defiles. Meantime, Lee had received a second 
courier from Washington, who, hearing the enemy was in motion, 
sent orders to his subordinate to attack the British, " unless there 
should be powerful reasons to the contrary," promising to hasten 
up with the reserves and sustain the battle. Accordingly Lee began 
his march, and by nine o'clock reached the heights of Freehold, 
which the EngUsh rear had left just before. As the Americans 
gained the brow of the elevation they beheld the splendid grenadiers 
of the enemy, moving in compact masses, along the valley below j 
while further on was visible the long line of baggage wagons, toiling 
like some huge serpent through the dusty plain, here lost in the woods, 
there re-appearing in the open country, until finally vanishing in the 
obscure distance. This magnificent spectacle was seen only for a 
moment; for, descending into the level ground, Lee prepared to 
attack the foe. His plan was to let Wayne press on the covering 
party of the British rear, while he himself, taking a circuitous route, 
should gain its front and cut it off from the main body. 

But Clinton was not thus to be surprised. His scouts having 
brought him early information of Lee's movement on his flank, he 
collected his forces with the intention of precipitating them in over- 
whelming volume on his antagonist. There was no other way, 
indeed, to parry the blow. The baggage was engaged in a succes- 
sion of defiles, extending for several miles, and to protect it, it was 
necessary to turn boldly on the pursuers. By pressing them hard, 
Clinton hoped he might crush them before Washington could arrive 
to their aid ; for the American Commander-in-chief was five miles 
in the rear of Lee, and separated from him by two defiles difficult 
to pass. Even if he should have eventually to meet the whole force 
of his enemy, CUnton trusted, in these defiles, to be at least able to 
hold him in check. But, in order to render his designs as sure of 
success as possible, he despatched word to Knyphausen to send back 
1*6111 forcements to the rear. This succor was obtained without its 
being at first perceived by Lee, for the intervening forest hid the 
movement from sight. It was not long, however, before his scouts 
brought in the intelligence that Clinton appeared in greater force than 
they had expected ; and when Lee, alarmed at this information, gal 
loped to the front to reconnoitre, he was startled to find nearly the 
whole British army advancing against him, their dense and glittering 
masses swarming on the plain. 



CHARLES LEE. ^ 375 

It is in moments such as this that great generals perform those 
prodigies of valor, and achieve those wonders of tactics, which 
make their names immortal ! But Lee was under the influence of 
feelings which prevented his making any such splendid effort ! We 
cannot suppose that the retreat which ensued was in consequence 
of any treachery on his part : we must therefore assign the cause to 
his want of self-confidence, or a secret resolution to make good his 
late opinion. He had a morass in his rear and a disciplined enemy 
in front : here was reason sufficient to induce a weak man to abandon 
the field. But he had received orders to attack, with an assurance 
of speedy support : this ought to have sufficed for a brave man and 
an obedient officer. The truth is, Lee had advised against a 
battle, and was not sorry to find his opinion apparently sustained by 
results : he saw sufficient in the present conjuncture to excuse him, 
he thought, in making a retreat. At first, indeed, he resolved to 
form and await the enemy, but some of his troops crossing the 
morass in his rear under a mistaken order, he changed his mind, and 
precipitately fell back in the direction of the main army, without 
firing a gun. Lee's exaggerated fear of the English veterans is 
shown in this little incident, as it had been before displayed at the 
attack on Charleston, when he advised the abandonment of Fort 
Moultrie ; and, without any imputation on his courage or his fidel- 
ity, assists to explain his conduct. 

Clinton, finding his foe retreating, briskly advanced to the attack, 
preceded by the Queen's light dragoons ; these, charging a body of 
horse led by La Fayette, drove them back in disorder. The route 
of the retreating Americans lay along a valley, about one mile broad 
and three long, cut up by ravines and sprinkled with clumps of wood- 
land. Into one of these bits of forest, the Americans now plunged 
themselves, from which they emerged in four columns, at a distance 
of twelve hundred paces, about a mile beyond the village of Mon- 
mouth. Here they made a temporary stand, and placed a battery ; 
but on the approach of the British they fell back again without a 
discharge ; at the same time a detachment formed in front of the 
village retired also without resistance. The whole of the advanced 
corps under Lee was now in full retreat. Flushed with what they 
considered a certain victory, though almost incredible at the ease 
with which it had been purchased, the British thundered hotly in 
pursuit, their long line of burnished muskets flashing in the sunshine, 
as they poured out from the woods and debouched into the open 
ground in front. The sight of these magnificent troops, and the 
splendid manner in which they manoeuvred, increased Lee's want 



376 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

of confidence in his men, and rendered him more eager to pursue 
his retreat. He accordingly fell back another mile, when he again 
halted. His position was now comparatively tenable, with a ravine 
in front, and woods on either flank. A couple of cannon, well 
placed, would have commanded the approaches, and enabled him 
to maintain himself until succor should arrive ; but, overcome by 
fears, at the approach of the enemy, he once more gave the order to 
retire, and flung himself into the forest on the left. Into its recesses 
the British eagerly followed him, and soon the woods rang far and 
near with the rattle of musketry, the shouts of combatants, and the 
tread of charging infantry. Faster and faster the Americans retreat- 
ed ; butj hot and fierce, the enemy pressed in pursuit. At last a 
portion of the fugitives made a third stand, in the vicinity of some 
elevated grounds about three miles from their first position ; but they 
had scarcely formed, when the British cavalry, shaking their sabres 
in the sun, poured down to the charge. Before this terrible onset 
the Americans speedily gave way : but, ere the retreat became a 
rout, a battery of two guns, hastily unlimbered by Colonel Stuart, 
checked the advance of the victorious horse. By this time murmurs 
of dissatisfaction began to be heard among the men ; vv^ho declared 
that, if led with resolution, they could maintain their ground against 
twice the legions of Clinton. The discontent became almost uni- 
versal : whispers of treachery on the part of Lee begun to circulate ; 
and, at last, one or more of the officers galloped from the ranks, and, 
hurrying to the rear, conveyed the startling intelligence to Washing- 
ton of the disastrous and unexpected retreat. 

While these events were in progress, the main army had left the 
encampment and was advancing to sustain Lee. The day was 
excessively sultry, but, as soon as the report of the first cannon 
boomed across the distance, the troops broke into a quick-step : and 
shortly after, as the reverberations of the artillery increased, throwing 
away their knapsacks, they hurried impatiently forward. For a 
time the firing ceased, nor could the cause of this be explained. 
Anxious, and in doubt, Washington pressed on, in vain seeking some 
elevation in the road from which to gain a view of the country 
ahead : but no rising ground offered itself, or if it did, the prospect 
was shut in by dark masses of woods. The cannonade was now 
resumed, followed by faint reports of musketry : and soon the vicinity 
of the sounds proved that the battle was close at hand. At last 
Washington reached a partly elevated ground, where he paused a 
moment to allow his troops to come up. He was standing beside 
his reeking horse, seeking a momentary shade from the noon of that 



CHARLES LEE. ST' 

awful day, when he discovered the first of the fugitives from Lee's 
command; and immediately afterwards, an officer hastening for- 
ward, begged him to press on, or the battle would be inevitably lost 
Astonished and indignant, he leaped on his horse, and galloped 
furiously through the retreating ranks. In a few moments he 
reached the head, where, drawing in his bridle at the side of Lee, 
he exclaimed sharply, "What is the meaning of this ?" " Sir, sir,'' 
replied Lee, abashed at so severe an address. "What is all this 
confusion for, and retreat ?" retorted Washington. " I see no con- 
fusion," replied Lee, "but what has arisen from my orders not 
being obeyed. The enemy are too strong for me." " You should 
not have undertaken this command, sir, unless you intended to 
fight," was the stern reply ; and with this, Washington put spurs to 
his horse and pressing to tlie extreme rear of the fugitives, took a 
rapid view of the advancing enemy and of the capabilities of the 
surrounding ground for defence. His decision on the course to be 
pursued was instantaneous. His eagle eye seized the favorable 
points at once. His momentary anger had now passed away, or 
only sufficient of it remained to give a glow to his fine face, as 
riding hither and thither, his tall form towering above all, and his 
voice raised in short and stern commands, he sought to rally and 
dispose the troops. Never, it is said, was his aspect more heroic 
than on this occasion. He flashed to and fro like a god suddenly 
descended on the scene. His presence, his stirring appeals, but 
more than all his enthusiasm, at once restored courage and confi- 
dence to th3 men, and with loud cries they demanded to be led 
against the enemy. Hastily forming the regiments of Ramsey and 
Stuart, Washington left them to receive the first onset of the foe ; 
and then hurried back to bring up his reserves. As he passed Lee, 
he ordered that officer to keep his ground, if possible, until succor 
should arrive. He had scarcely been lost to sight down the road 
when Hamilton, galloped across the fields, his horse in a foam. 
Reaching Lee's side, he grasped his hand and exclaimed, " My dear 
General, let me stay here and die with you : let us all die here rather 
than retreat !" With these words the battle again began. 

But Lee's troops could not long withstand the assaults of the 
en^y, who came pouring down on them, flushed and triumphant 
with success. The momentary enthusiasm produced by the presence 
of Washington had subsided ; and though many were eager to perish 
where they stood rather than retire, the confidence of an army, once 
broken, is difficult to be restored ; and hence, after a brief resistance, 
the division began a new retreat. By this time, however, Washing 

48 GG* 



378 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

ton had formed his reserves, and, opening his ranks for the fugitives 
to pass, he directed Lee to retire to Englishtovvn, three miles in the 
rear, and there collect his troops. The ground chosen by Washing- 
ton was low, but protected by a morass in front; while Knox, with 
six pieces of artillery, was thrown forward to a high ground over- 
looking the enemy's flank. Perceiving these able dispositions, Clin- 
ton checked the advance of his light infantry and turning to Wash- 
ington's left, made a feint to attack there ; but Lord StirUng, with 
some field-pieces, took post on an elevation in this quarter, and as- 
sisted by the infantry, drove back the enemy. Now, for the first 
time, the British received a positive check. Stung with mortification 
they made desperate efforts to redeem the day. In a few minutes 
the battle became furious. Detachment after detachment of infantry, 
issuing from the American lines, charged the British wherever they 
advanced ; while, as often as the Americans retired, the British fol- 
lowed, like a returning wave. It had been ten o'clock when the 
retreat first began; it was twelve when Washington came up to Lee 
an hour had been lost in forming the troops; and now for two hours 
more, the undulating ground on which the armies were drawn up, 
shook with the reverberations of artillery and was darkened with 
the smoke of battle. It was the Sabbath day, and just in front of the 
American infantry rose a quiet parsonage house : yet the uproar and 
slaughter of the strife grew momently more terrible. Far away, over 
the fields, the yellowing wheat stood motionless, for not a breath of 
air was stirring; while the atmosphere, along the lines of the low hills, 
seemed to boil in the sultry sunbeams. No Sabbath bell called wor- 
shippers to prayer: no quiet groups were seen wending their way to 
church : none of the usual holy repose of the sacred day hung over 
the landscape. But, as the sun traversed the unclouded zenith, and 
began to decline towards the west, the fury of the fight raged higher 
and fiercer, and the sulphurous smoke gathered denser along the 
ensanguined plain. 

Wayne, with an advanced corps, had taken a position on a rising 
ground, twelve rods behind the parsonage, and about half way between 
the main body and the park of artillery under Knox. A fence ran 
across the field just in front. Several times the British grenadiers 
crossed this fence, in order to drive Wayne back from his position ; 
but, as often, the fire of our troops and artillery stationed there re- 
pulsed them in disorder. At last Colonel Monckton, their leader, in 
a short address, nearly every word of which was heard by Wayne's 
detachment, then scarcely thirty rods distant, stimulated them to a 
last desperate assault. Placing himself at their head, Monckton or 



CHARLES LEE. 379 

dered them to advance, which they did in silence, and in as beauti- 
ful order as on parade. For a moment the Americans gazed in 
hushed admiration on these splendid troops : then the batteries 
of Knox and the musketry of Wayne's infantry opened together 
The slaughter that ensued was the most horrible of any that had hap 
pened yet, during the five hours of battle. The balls of the cannon 
tore up the solid ranks of the foe, in one instance a single shot dis- 
arming a whole platoon. The deadly aim of the Americans smote 
the British ranks incessantly, the officers falling as if pierced by the 
shafts of some invisible power. Colonel Monckton, while cheering 
at the head of his men, was mortally wounded. Instantly the Ameri 
cans rushed forward to seize the body, while the British strove man- 
fully to carry it off. Then ensued one of those desperate melees 
which Homer loved to describe, and which belong rather to romance 
than to history. Foot to foot and breast to breast the combatants 
fought, the men frequently throwing aside their arms and grappling 
in the death struggle ; while, on every part of the field there was a 
momentary pause, and all eyes turned to where that dark body of 
commingled foes swayed backwards and forwards in the strife ot 
life and death. Now, the smoke, clinging around the combatants, 
hid them from sight ; now the white masses broke away and revealed 
the tumultuous conflict. The artillery ceased firing, for friend and 
foe were inextricably linked together. One moment the Americans 
appeared to have the advantage ; the next they were seen slowly 
giving way. No cheers rose from the combatants in that ijiortal con- 
test ; the struggle was too earnest for words. At last the scene be- 
came one of apparently interminable confusion, where, around a pile 
of dead, groups of savage men, begrimed with smoke and covered 
with blood, flashed to and fro under the lurid canopy, like demons. 
Then the whole spectacle vanished behind that cloud of vapor ; a 
minute of suspense ensued ; and when the veil lifted, the British were 
seen driving in confusion across the fence. The Americans were 
victorious, remaining in triumphant possession of the body, now sur- 
rounded by a hecatomb of slain! On seeing this terrible spectacle, 
Clinton, despairing of success, abandoned his position and fell back 
behind the ravine, to the spot he had occupied when he received his 
first check, immediately after Washington met Lee. 

The engraving represents this portion of the battle field. The 
view looks to the north. At the back of the spectator, and 
tc the left, is where Knox, with his artillery was posted. In the 
distance, from between the two apple trees, stretching along to the 
left of the picture, is the ground occupied by Washington. To the 



380 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

right, from the house to the end of the view, Ues the elevated ground 
where the British army was stationed. Wayne's division came into 
action to the right, between Knox and the enemy. 

Wiien the British were thus driven back, they seized an almost 
impregnable position, that which Lee had once occupied ; their flanks 
being secured by thick woods and morasses, and their front accessi^ 
ble only through a narrow pass. The day was now declining, yet 
Washington determined on forcing the enemy from his position. 
Two brigades were accordingly detached to gain the right flank of 
the British, and Woodford, with his gallant brigade was ordered to 
turn their left. Knox opened his terrible batteries, and the battle 
once more began. The British cannon replied. The ground shook 
with the earthquake of heavy artillery, and the fields where the enemy 
had lately stood, echoed to the cheers of the Americans advancing to 
the charge. 

Night was now approaching, however. All through that long 
day, with the thermometer at ninety, the two armies had been en- 
gaged either in pursuing, in retreating, or in active strife ; numbers 
had died from pure exhaustion, others had their tongues so swollen 
with thirst that they could not speak, and scores had crawled to the 
sides of the brook, or sank helpless under some friendly shade. Never, 
m the annals of modern warfare, had there been a battle so obstinately 
contested under so burning a sun. Hour after hour the two armies 
had struggled in that narrow valley. There, at high noon, the com- 
but had be^un ; and there, though it was now sunset, the strife stil! 
raged. The purple tints of the declining day changed to a cold 
green, and this to sober grey, yet a desultory firing continued in 
spots across the field. The moon, then in her last quarter, began to 
show her faint horn in the western heaven ; and then, but uot till 
then, the dropping shots ceased, and silence gradually feh on the 
landscape. But long after this, the dun smoke, which no breath of 
welcome air stirred, hung over the scene of strife, and, growing 
darker as the night deepened, took the appearance of a vast velvet 
pall, flung, by the hand of pitying nature, over the unburied heroes 
that lay around. Completely worn out, the combatants of both 
armies sank to repose, each man making his bed on the ground he 
occupied. The troops of Washington slept on their arms, he him- 
.self reclining like the humblest soldier in their midst. 

It was the intention of the American General to renew the battle on 
the foUowing day, but toward midnight, when the moon had gome 
down, the British secretly abandoned their position, and resumed their 
maich. So fatigued were the Americans, that the flight of the enemy 



CHARLES LEE. 381 

was not discovered until morning. Washington made no attempt at 
pursuit, satisfied that Sir Henry Clinton would reach the heights of 
Middletown before he could be overtaken. Accordingly, leaving a 
detachment to watch the British rear, the main body of the army was 
moved, by easy marches, to the Hudson. In this battle the enemy 
lost nearly three hundred ; the Americans did not suffer a third as 
much. Never, unless at Princeton, did Washington evince such 
heroism. His presence of mind alone saved the day. He checked 
the retreat, drove back the enemy, and remained master of the field , 
and this, too, with a loss comparatively trifling when compared 
with that 01 the foe. 

The battle of Monmouth, won in this manner, when all the senior 
officers had declared a victory impossible, left a profound impression 
on the public mind of America and Europe. The discipline of our 
troops was no longer despised. Soldiers who, under such disastrous 
circumstances, could be brought to face and drive back a successful 
foe, were declared to be a match for the veterans of Europe ; and 
their General, who had been called the Fabius, was now honored 
with the new title of the Marcellus of modern history. 

This is the proper place to refer to the subsequent disgrace of Lee. 
Though Washington had addressed him warmly in the first surprise 
of their meeting, it is probable that no pubUc notice would have 
been taken of Lee's hasty retreat, but for the conduct of that Gene- 
ral himself Of a haughty, perhaps of an overbearing disposition, 
he could not brook the indignity which he considered had been put 
upon him ; and almost his first act was to write an improper letter 
to Washington, demanding reparation for the words used toward 
him on the battle-field. The reply of the Commander-in-chief was 
dignified, but severe. He assured his subordinate he should have a 
speedy opportunity to justify himself, and on Lee's asking for a 
court-martial, the latter was arrested. The verdict of that body was, 

First : That he was guilty of disobedience of orders in not attack- 
ing the enemy on the 2Sth of June, agreeably to repeated instruc- 
tions. Second : That he was guilty of misbehavior before the 
enemy on the same day, in making an unnecessary, and, in some 
few instances, a disorderly retreat. Third : That he was guilty of 
disrespect to the Commander-in-chief in two letters. His sentence 
was, to be suspended from his rank for one year. 

We shall not go into a minute examination of the question whether 
this punishment was deserved. Our own opinion is that it was. 
We must, however, be understood as saying that the two first 
charges were not made out clearly by the evidence; and that it 



382 • THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

would have been fairer to have convicted Lee only on the last. We 
do not tliink him guilty in the retreat of anything but an error in 
judgment, arising, perhaps, from want of confidence in his men. 
But he should have kept the Commander-in-chief advised of his 
movements. It is clear that Lee considered himself a superior officei 
to Washington. Hence, he was overbearing, proud, sullen, and 
dogmatical throughout the whole proceedings, both before and after 
the battle. This point of his character was well understood by the 
army, with whom he was unpopular : — it was the real cause of his 
disgrace. He fell a victim, not so much to his error in the retreat, 
as to his haughty and impetuous character ; for, unwilhng to brook 
a superior, he assumed an attitude to the Commander-in-chief, 
incompatible alike with decency and discipline. 

The verdict fell, like a thunderbolt, on Lee. He was still con- 
fident, however, that Congress, which body was to reverse or 
approve the decision of the court-martial, would annul the pro- 
ceedings. He was disappointed. If there had, at any time, been a 
chance in his favor, it was destroyed by the intemperance of his 
language in reference to the court and to Washington. The court 
being, by his violent course, forced to take sid#s, naturally sustained 
the Commander-in-chief The sentence was approved, after a delay 
of three months : and Lee, in a passion of indignation, retired to his 
estate in Virginia. Here he lived like a hermit. His personal habits 
had always been careless, and they now grew more so. His house 
was a mere shell, with but one room, which by lines of chalk on the 
floor he divided into his kitchen, his study, his chamber, and a place 
for his saddles and harness. His time was divided between his dogs 
and his books. It was while in this retirement that he wrote the 
celebrated " Queries, Political and Military," the object of which 
was to depreciate the character and military genius of Washington : 
these, finding their way into the Maryland journal, raised such a 
storm of indignation that the printer had to make a public apology 
and surrender the name of the author. Shortly after, on the expira- 
» tion of his term of suspension, having heard a rumor that Congress, 
from motives of economy, intended to dispense with his services, he 
penned a characteristic and insolent letter to that body, which pro- 
duced a resolution that " Major-General Charles Lee be informed 
ttiat Congress have no further occasion for his services in the army 
of the United States." In reply, Lee wrote an apology for his late 
epistle, attributing its tone to the fact that his temper was ruffled at 
the time ; wishing Congress success in the cause ; yet expressing his 
intention, by this letter, not to be, to court a restoration to rank, but 



CHARLES LEE. . 383 

^o excuse his late indecorum and impropriety. There is something 
redeeming in this last public act of Lee ; something of the wounded 
lion, old and deserted, closing the scene with dignity. 

The bitter malignity which Lee displayed towards Washington, 
at last induced Colonel John Laurens, one of the aids of the Com- 
mander-in-chief, to call him to an account. A duel between Laurens 
and Lee accordingly took place, in which the latter received a ball 
in his side. On a subsequent occasion, having been censured by 
Chief Justice Drayton, of South Carolina, in a charge to a grand jury, 
Lee angrily sent a challenge to the Judge, which the latter, however, 
declined, alleging that such a mode of adjustiiig the difficulty would 
be inconsistent with his official character. By this want of temper, 
Lee managed to involve himself in other quarrels, and create other 
enemies. Meantime his skeptical opinions on religion, which had 
now become generally known, led a large portion of the community 
to regard him with distrust. In short, a freethinker in every thing, 
and exercising no restraint over his passions, he now lost all his 
former popularity, and was falling from the lofty height in which 
he had formerly stood, like some star suddenly shooting downwards, 
and disappearing in the abyss of space. 

The life of an agriculturalist did not suit him, and in 17S2 he 
visited Baltimore and Philadelphia, intending to sell his estate and 
afterwards resolve on some plan of life. But death stepped in to 
put a close to his schemes and his vexations. At Philadelphia he 
was seized with a fever at a common inn. In a few days, notwith- 
standing the skill of his physicians, the unfortunate man finished his 
mortal career. He died on the 2nd of October, 1782, in the fifty-first 
year of his age. His closing scene has a grandeur in it worthy of 
his earlier fame. He lay motionless for a long time, muttering inco- 
herently in the delirium of fever ; but, as death drew on, he suddenly 
started up in bed, his eye kindled, he waved his hand, and shouting, 
" Stand by me, my brave grenadiers,'' fell back and expired. He 
was interred in the burial ground contiguous to Christ Church, where, 
long since, the particular spot of his sepulture has been lost to tra 
dition. 

In dismissing the character of Lee we can add little, which we did 
not say in the beginning. He had many excellent qualities, and 
much talent ; but in temper he was reckless, bitter, and unforgiving. 
On the one hand, chivalrous, generous, constant in his friendships • 
on the other, imprudent, conceited, relentless in his hate. He never 
forgave Washington even the negative part which that great and 
good man took in the affair of Monmouth. In public and private he 



II 



384 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



vehemently declaimed against the Commander-in-chief, to whom he 
attributed those misfortunes which, in reahty, were the fruit of his 
own passions. With many noble qualities, and every advantage in 
the morning of life, his career set, at last, in tempest and gloom ! 





.x^f\;% 



BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 




ENJAMIN LINCOLN, a Major-General ia 
the continental line, was an officer of re- 
spectable, though not of superior abilities. 
He had no genius, but some talent ; was 
more prudent than enterprising; and be 
longed to the old formal school in the art of 
war. Lincoln was one of the unfortunate 
Generals of the Revolution. In no case 
where he commanded in person did victory attend our arms. Such 
a continuation of disasters could not have been accidental, but must 
liave arisen, at least in part, from some peculiarity in himself. It 
is evident that Lincoln was a leader not altogether fitted for the 
times. He had neither the irresistible vehemence of Wayne, nor the 
comprehensive intellect of Washington. Yet he was not a bad Gene- 
ral. His conduct was unexceptionable, judged by merely critical 
rules. No one can fairly censure him for the loss of Charleston, for 
the repulse at Savannah, or for the failure of the attack on Stono 
49 HH 385 



386 BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 

Ferry. But the reflection will nevertheless arise that a commandei 
of greater genius might have effected more. 

Lincoln was born at Hingham, Massachusetts, on the 23rd of 
January, 1733. Until about the period of the Revolution he followed 
the vocation of a farmer. In 1775, however, he was elected a Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel of the militia, and subsequently chosen a member of the 
Provincial Congress. In 1776, he was commissioned as a Brigadier 
by his native state, principally on account of his extensive influence. 
He soon displayed an aptitude for the profession of arms and was ' 
of great assistance in preparing the militia for active service. The 
rank of Major- General having been bestowed on him by Massachu- 
setts, he commanded a body of militia that marched to join the main 
army at New York. Washington speedily discerned that the abilities 
of Lincoln were superior to those of the great mass around him, and, 
anxious to secure his services permanently, recommended him 
warmly to Congress. In consequence he was appointed a Major- 
General in the continental line in February, 1777. For several 
months subsequent to this elevation, he continued with the main army 
under Washington, earning a solid reputation for courage, prudence 
and accuracy of judgment. 

In July, 1777, he was detached to join the army under Gates. 
One reason for his selection was his popularity in the New England 
states, which it was hoped might be made available in obtaining re- 
cruits. He first repaired to Manchester, in Vermont, where a depot 
had been formed for the militia. Here as the different companies came 
in, Lincoln prepared and forwarded them to the main body. While 
at this post, on the 13th of September, he detached Colonel Brown, 
with five hundred men, to Lake George, where that ofiicer conquered 
two hundred batteaux, and nearly three hundred soldiers of the ene- 
my, besides liberating one hundred American prisoners. This vigoj- 
ous blow, struck on the line of communications of Burgoyne, was a 
serious evil to that General. From the hour that he heard of it he 
despaired of retreat. Lincoln, after this success, despatched two 
other parties against Skeenshorough and Mount Independence, and 
then proceeded to join Gatej at head-quarters, where affairs were 
rapidly drawing to a climax. During the terrible battle of the 7th 
of October he commanded within the lines, and consequently escaped 
unhurt, but on the succeeding day, while reconnoitering in front of 
.the army, he came unexpectedly upon a detachment of the enemy. 
A volley being discharged at him and his Aids, Lincoln was seriously 
wounded in the leg, and, for a time it was feared that the limb would 
have to be amputated. He was removed at first to Albany, and 



BENJAMIN LINCOLN, 387 

several months subsequently to Ms residence at Hingham. Nor 
was it until August, 1778, that he was sufficiently recovered to repair 
to the camp of Washington. Meantime, however, large portions of 
the bone had come away from his limb. For several years the leg 
continued in an ulcerated condition, and being shortened by the 
loss of bone, rendered him lame for life. 

The threatened invasion of the south had induced that section of 
the confederacy to apply to Congress for a General to command them 
in the Carolinas, and at the suggestion of the leading men there, Lin- 
coln was elected to the new post. He arrived at Charleston in De- 
cember, 1778, and found everything in confusion. In the chaos that 
reigned in all the various departments, in the want of supplies, the 
disorganization of the troops, the apathy of the inhabitants, Lincoln 
found ample exercise for energy, application, and an economic use 
of means. He inspired confidence by his bold front, gave coherence 
to the raw levies, infused a military spirit among all classes, and this 
so effectually that, in a few months, despondency gave place to ex- 
hilaration, and instead of being content merely to defend their homes 
the Carolinians aspired to carry the war into the heart of the ene- 
my's positions in Georgia. Lincoln accordingly marched upon that 
province and was engaged successfully against the enemy in the 
upper part of the state, when Prevost, the British General, dexte- 
rously eluding Moultrie, who had been left to watch him, advanced 
into South Carolina, and made a bold dash at Charleston. This 
hazardous attempt had nearly caused the fall of that place. Fortu- 
nately, however, Lincoln, apprized of his enemy's movements, by a 
rapid countermarch, arrived before the capital in time to raise the 
siege. The battle of Stono Ferry followed ; but, though the Ameri- 
cans displayed the utmost gallantry, Prevost succeeded in effecting 
his escape. 

In September, 1779, Lincoln commanded the continental troops at 
the siege of Savannah ; and when the fatal assault was suggested by 
d'Estaing, remonstrated, though to no purpose against it. The 
French Admiral refusing to remain longer, Lincoln reluctantly con- 
sented to the attack. The night before the storm, a deserter went 
over to the enemy and gave notice of the intended movement, so that 
Prevost was fully prepared. The principal assault was directed 
against the right flank of the works. On this side, a swampy hol- 
low, affording cover, led up to within fifty yards of the fortifications. 
The allied troops were marshalled before day, the French in three 
columns, the Americans in one. D'Estaing and Lincoln in person 
marched at the head of their respective forces. The darkness was 



3d8 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

ditense -scarcely a star shining cm high. The wind waiUng through 
the pines, seemed to forbode the approaching disaster. The army 
was to move in one long column until it approached the edge of the 
wood, when it was to break oif into the different columns as arranged, 
out in consequence of the thick gloom the troops lost their way and 
became involved in the swamp, so that some disorder ensued. At 
last, however, the ranks were formed anew, and the first column, 
headed by d'Estaing, dashed forward to the walls. The day was 
just breaKing. As the assailants emerged from the gray fog of the 
nollow way, the defenders who had been on the look out all night, 
detected the flash of their muskets, and opened a raking fire of artil- 
lery that, at the first discharge, decimated the column. The French 
staggered an instant, but soon rallying, pressed on. Again that tor- 
rent of balls and grape s" ^ept past them, carrying with it many a 
brave soldier, and shaking the column to its centre. Yet still the 
storming party, breasting the current, endeavored to force their way 
into the works. At every step, however, the missiles of death, like 
thick falling snow flakes, drove wilder and faster into their faces. 
When they reached the abatis the carnage became frightful. The 
ground soon became strewn with the slain. The hardy veteran 
who had passed all his life in camps, and *the young recruit 
fresh from the banks of the Loire fell together side by side ; while 
the officer, as he mounted the fallen body of some soldier, to cheer 
on his men, tumbled dead across it. Speedily, a confused heap 
blocked up the approach to the ramparts, the blood that oozed in a 
thick stream from the mass of dead, flowing lazily off into the 
morass. The first column broke and fled, but the second now poured 
on to the assault. This, in turn, recoiled, when the third came dash- 
ing up. D'Estaing, gallantly leading his men, at last fell wounded, 
and had to be carried from the field. The troops, however, con- 
tinued the attack, though, amid the smoke and fog, nothing could be 
seen of their progress, except now and then a banner rising and fall- 
ing above the clouds of vapor, like a sail tossing on the distant surge ! 
The attack of the Americans was, for a while, more successful. 
Headed by Colonel Laurens, the gallant band pressed forward, in face 
of a withering fire, on the Spring Hill redoubt, and, after a tremen- 
dous struggle, a part succeeded in getting into the ditch. Serjeant 
Jasper, in charge of one of the colors of the second regiment, was 
among the foremost in the assault, and while the precious flag 
waved aloft, the enthusiasm of the men, never, for an instant, 
tiagged ; but, pressing forward, they carried everything before them. 
Across the plrin ; into the ditch ; and up over the walls the living 



BENJAMIN LINCOLN. 389 

tide poured on. As he reached the ditch, Jasper received a second 
and a mortal wound, and feeUng the hand of death upon him, turned 
feebly to Lieutenant Bush and delivered the holy charge into his 
liands. The new standard-bearer had scarcely received the deposit, 
when a grape shot struck him, and he tumbled headlong into the 
ditch ; but, with a dying effort, he grasped the flag, and fell with 
liis body across it, so that, after the battle, it was picked up soaked 
with his blood. The other standard of the regiment, however, stilj 
waved aloft, its familiar folds, though riddled by shot, fluttering in 
the van. For a moment, as its bearer leaped into the ditch, it 
appeared to sink under the tide of battle ; but soon it rose again, 
and, the next instant was seen waving proudly on the enemy's ram 
parts. Inspired by the sight, the column, which had wavered under 
the terrible fire, rushed forward, and endeavored to scale the walls. 
A few succeeded in the attempt. But the greater number, mowed 
down by the incessant discharges, sank at the foot of the ramparts. 
In vain the more athletic clambered up the parapet. Tempests of fire 
and shot swept the walls and hurled them back into the ditch, bleed- 
ing and dying. A few, for a second or two, gained a foothold in 
the works. But the British, finding others did not arrive to support 
them, made a sudden charge along the parapet, and pushed the suc- 
cessful assailants down. At this crisis, Serjeant Macdonald, seeing 
that retreat was inevitable, and unwilling to leave the standard as a 
trophy to the foe, seized it, and, with a shout of defiance, sprung 
back into the ditch. The enemy, following up his advantage, swept 
the ditch as well as the ramparts, and, excited to a phrenzy of 
enthusiasm, pursued the retiring foe through the abatis, and even 
to the open plain. The sally was as rapid as a flash of lightning, 
and smote the assailants with a like terrible effect. The whole four 
columns simultaneously recoiled from those blood-red ramparts. 
The fight had lasted an hour. A thousand brave men had fallen in 
that short space, and now lay far and near darkening the plain, here 
scattered about along the line of retreat, there piled in heaps where 
the battle had raged fiercest. Struck with horror at the spectacle, 
and satisfied that -a second assault would be equally abortive, the 
allied commanders, after that last terrible repulse, drew off their 
forces, and beat a parley to bury the dead. Nine days subsequently 
the siege was abandoned. 

Thus ended the unfortunate investment of Savannah. Nor was 
the next affair, in which Lincoln was engaged, more triumphant : we 
allude, of course, to the fall of Charleston, the garrison of which he 
commanded. By the loss of that capital, and the army collected 

HH* 



^90 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION, 

there, the whole south was placed at the mercy of the loe ; and m 
consequence, a large number of his fellow citizens severely censured 
Lincoln for attempting to defend the town. But the three months 
delay gained by the siege was no unimportant advantage. It is 
easy, at this day, to state that errors were committed ; but it is diffi- 
cult to say how they could have been corrected at the time. The 
Carolinians placed an undue importance on their capital, insisting 
that it should be defended to the last extremity ; and, as Lincoln had 
been pron jsed reinforcements from the north, he considered himself 
imperatively bound to yield to their wishes. What General, in the 
same circumstances, would have done otherwise ? For the last fort-' 
night of the siege he was on the lines night and day, without once 
undressing. In consequence of the capitulation, Lincoln became a 
prisoner of war, but in 1781 he was exchanged, and joined the main 
araiy in time to witness the surrender of Yorktown. On that auspi- 
cious occasion Washington delegated to him the task of receiving 
the sword of Cornwallis, an honor delicately proffered by the 
Commander-in-chief, in order to heal the lacerated feelings of Lin- 
coin. For, throughout all the adverse fortunes of the latter, Wash. 
ington continued his advocate and friend, insisting that, at the worst, 
the argument in favor of defence at Charleston, had been as potent 
as that against it ! 

In October, 1781, Lincoln was chosen Secretary of War, in which 
office he remained two years. He now retired to his farm. But 
in 1786, when the insurrection of Shay occurred, Lincoln was 
appointed to command the militia called out to sustain the laws. 
Through his prudence and energy the rebellion was extinguished 
with scarcely any bloodshed. In 1787, he was elected Lieutenant- 
Governor of Massachusetts. In 1789, he was appointed by the 
President collector for the port of Boston. On various occasions he 
acted as a Commissioner to make treaties with the Indians. He 
lived until the 10th of May, 18i0, when he died after a 'Jhort ilhiess. 




ANTHONY WAYNE 



NTHONY WAYNE.a 

Major-General in tin; 
American army, was the 
Ney of the war of in- 
dependence. A braver 
man, perhaps, never 
lived. His name, in- 
deed, has passed into a 
synonyme for all that 
is headlong and unap- 
proachable in courage. 
Men of Wayne's class 
have been, in all ages, the favorites of the masses. The refinements 
of a great strategic genius are above the comprehension of common 
minds, but any individual, however ordinary in intellect, can appre- 
ciate an indomitable spirit. What Decatur was to the navy, that 
Wayne was to the army ! There was nothing he feared to attempt. 
He would do not only what others dared, but more. His active and 

391 




392 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

irrepressible energy hurried him forward on a battle-field to make 
attempts which often succeeded from their very audacity. An 
instance of this occurred at Jamestown Ferry, where he saved his 
corps from annihilation by charging a force, five times in number, 
with the bayonet. He stood alone among the American Generals 
in the terrible power which he infused into a column of attack. Had 
he been one of Napoleon's Marshals he would have rivalled Mac- 
donald at Wagram, or Ney at Waterloo. He swooped across a 
battle-field like an eagle striking at its prey. If he had Hved in the 
old heroic age he would have gone, like Hercules, to drag Cerberus 
from the gates of hell. 

Wayne was born in Chester county, Pennsylvania, on the 1st of 
January, 1745. Even while a boy he evinced military spirit. His 
preceptor writing to the father, in reference to Wayne, said, " One 
thing I am certain of, he will never make a scholar. He may make 
a soldier : he has already distracted the brains of two-thirds of the 
boys, under my direction, by rehearsals of battles and sieges.'^ The 
old schoolmaster, however, was not exactly correct in his estimate : 
for Wayne, having been censured by his father, in consequence of 
this epistle, applied himself from that hour laboriously to his books, 
and was finally dismissed with a certificate that, " having acquired 
all that his master could teach, he merited the means of higher and 
more general instruction." Wayne accordingly was sent to the 
Philadelphia Academy. Here he remained until his eighteenth 
year, when he returned to Chester county, and assumed the profes- 
sion of a surveyor. A company of merchants having associated to 
purchase lands in Nova Scotia, Wayne was chosen as surveyor, on 
the recommendation of Dr. Franklin, over numerous competitors. 
He was at this period but twenty-one years of age, and the choice 
proves the reputation for talent which he had even then obtained. 
In 1767 he married and settled permanently in his native county. 
Here he served as a member of the Legislature and of the Committee 
of Public Safety. As early as 1764, convinced that war was inevi- 
table, he began to apply himself to the study of military science. 
He raised a corps of volunteers, and devoted his leisure to drilling 
them, with such success, as one of his biographers asserts, that m 
six weeks they had " more the appearance of a veteran than a 
militia regiment." 

In January, 1776, he was appointed by Congress Colonel of one 
of the regiments to be raised in Pennsylvania. He soon filled his 
ranks, and early in the spring, was ordered to Canada. In the ex- 
pedition against Three Rivers he signaUzed himself by his daring 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 393 

bravery-, and also during the subsequent retreat, so that he began 
already to be spoken of as one certain to rise to eminence. He was 
wounded in this campaign. In February, 1777, he was appointed a 
Brigadier. He joined Washington in May of that year, and rendered 
such important aid in driving the enemy from New Jersey, that the 
Commander-in-chief spoke of him with especial approbation, in his 
official report to Congress in June, 1777. When it became evident 
that Howe was about to attack Philadelphia, Wayne was sent to his 
native county to raise the militia there. In the action of the Bran- 
dywine, Wayne commanded at Chad's Ford. On this occasion his 
troops particularly distinguished themselves. The Pennsylvania line 
had already become celebrated for its high state of discipline, and to 
this was now added a reputation for unshrinking courage in the field 
— characteristics which it never lost throughout the war, and for 
which it was mainly indebted to the example and instructions of 
Wayne. On the 11th of September, five days after the battle of 
Brandy winCj the American army had completely recovered from its 
defeat ; and the van, led by General Wayne, had actually come into 
contact with the enemy, with the intention of giving battle, when a 
storm arose and separated the combatants. 

Washington, discovering that Howe still lingered in his vicinity, 
despatched Wayne to watch the enemy's movements,and when joined 
by Smallwood and the Maryland militia, to cut off the baggage and 
hospital train. Wayne accordingly hovered on the enemy's rear, but 
not being joined by Smallwood, was able to effect nothing. Mean- 
time the British were meditating an attack on his position. Wayne 
received a partial notice of the intended surprise about an hour be- 
fore it occurred, but the information was not sufficiently reliable to 
induce him to shift his position. He held his men in readiness, how- 
ever. At eleven o'clock, and while it was raining, the enemy sud- 
denly appeared in sight. Wayne immediately ordered a retreat. 
The artillery and larger portion of his force, he directed to move 
off under Colonel Hampton; while he remained in person, with the first 
Pennsylvania regiment, the Ught infantry and the horse, to cover the 
rear. Through negligence or misapprehousion, Hampton did not put 
his troops into motion until three distinct orders had been sent to do 
so ; and in consequence about one hundred and fifty of his men 
were cut off and bayonetted by the British. The real offender, 
Hampton, in order to exonerate himself, charged the misfortune to 
the negligence of Wayne. A court-martial accordingly was sum- 
moned, the verdict of which not only exculpated the General, but 
declared he had done everything that could be expected of an active, 
50 



394 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION; 

bra\ie and vigilant officer. This affair has been misrepresented iu 
popular history as a surprise, followed by an indiscriminate slaughter, 
and is generally known as the Paoli massacre. 

At the battle of Germantown, Wayne led one division of the right 
wing ; and in the retreat saved the army, by throwing up a battery 
at White Marsh Church. During the winter at Valley Forge, Wayne 
was despatched to New Jersey, which he foraged from Bordentown 
to Salem, and succeeded in bringing very important supplies to camp, 
though not until after many sharp skirmishes with the enemy. In 
the obstinate contest at Monmouth he signalized himself by the most 
daring courage, and was one of the few who sided with Washington 
in recommending a battle. For his conduct on this day he was 
particularly commended to Congress by the Commander-in-chief. 
Nothing of importance occurred in Wayne's career after this, until 
the storming of Stony Point, which took place on the 15th of July, 
1779. This is the most brilUant affair of the war of independence. 
Stony Point is a precipitous hill, on the western shore of the Hudson, 
completely commanding King's Ferry, the then ordinary communi- 
cation between the middle and eastern states. It had been seized 
by the British, who declared their intention to make it impregnable. 
Nature had already done much to assist their design. The hill was 
washed by the river on two of its sides, and covered on the third by 
a marsh, overflowed except at low tide. The enemy encircled this 
hill with a double row of abatis, and erected on its summit a strong 
breastwork bristling with artillery. Six hundred veteran troops 
were assigned as the garrison of the place. Washington sent for 
Wayne and proposed that the latter should assault it, at the head of 
a picked corps. Though the British had been foiled at Bunker Hill, 
under exactly similar circumstances, Wayne did not hesitate an 
instant in expressing his willingness for the task, or his confidence in 
success. Tradition has even placed in his mouth this characteristic 
reply to the Commander-in-chief's suggestion, " General, if you will 
only plan it, I will storm h-11." 

Wayne began his march from Sandy Beach, about fourteen miles 
distant from Stony Point, and by eight o'clock in the evening arrived 
within a mile and a half of his destination. He now made his final 
arrangements, and at half after eleven was once more in motion. 
The night had no moon, but the stars were out, and the deep 
shadows of the hill lay in huge black masses on the water, as the 
little army arrived at the morass. Across the Hudson, Verplank's 
Point was seen, rising huge and dark from the river shore. The 
time appointed for the attack had been midnight, but the uneven 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 395 

nature of the ground had protracted the march, and it was now 
twenty minutes past that hour. The assault was arranged to be in 
two columns, one of the right, and the other of the left, which, 
entering the fort at opposite corners, were to meet in its centre. The 
regiments of Febiger and Meigs, with Hull's detachment, formed the 
column of the right : that of the left was composed of the regimem 
of Butler, and Murphy's detachment. They were all troops in whom 
Wayne had confidence, mostly of the Pennsylvania line, brave to a 
man ! Each column was preceded by an advanced party. That 
on the right, of one hundred and fifty men, was led by Lieutenant- 
Colonel Herny; that on the left, of one hundred, was led by Major 
Stewart. Two forlorn hopes of twenty men each, went first, one 
commanded by Lieutenant Gibbon of the sixth, and the other by 
Lieutenant Knox of the ninth Pennsylvania regiments. The forlorn 
hopes marched with axes to cut away the abatis : behind them went 
the two advanced parties, with unloaded muskets ; then came the 
main body of each column. Wayne placed himself at the head of 
Febiger's regiment. " The first man that fires his piece shall be cut 
down," was his short address, "trust to the bayonet. March on!" 
The troops had nearly crossed the morass before the enemy took 
the alarm. But when the head of the column approached firm land, 
the drum within the works was heard beating to arms, and instan- 
taneously the sounds of hurried feet and other signs of commotion 
came, borne by the night breeze, from the summit of the hill. The 
forlorn hope sprang forward, knowing that not a second was to be 
lost, and began to cut away the abatis, the column behind pressing 
densely on. The first blow of the axe had scarcely struck the pali- 
sades when the rampart streamed, right and left, with fire, and the 
next moment, a torrent of grape-shot and musket-balls tore furiously 
down the hill. Seventeen of the twenty members of the forlorn hope 
led by Lieutenant Gibbons fell. But the advanced party immedi- 
ately rushed on to fill their places : the palisades were thrown 
down ; and the column, like a solid wedge, advanced steadily up 
the ascent. The fire of the enemy continued without cessation, 
showers of grape and musketry raining down on the assailants. 
But, stooping their heads to the storm, the men, with fixed bayo- 
nets, and in perfect silence, rapidly pushed on. The hiL shook 
beneath the concussions, as if axi earthquake was passing. Shells 
hissed through the air, like fiery serpents, and plunging into the 
ranks of the Americans, tore them asunder with terrific explosions. 
Hurricanes of grape swept the lines, levelling whole lanes of soldiers. 
As Wayne marched in the van, a musket ball striking him in the 



396 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



forehead, prostrated him, but staggering to his feet, the wounded 
hero cried, " March on, carry me into the fort, I will die at the heaa 
of the column/' Seizing their leader, the men, at these words, 




STOKMING OF STONY POINT 



rushed headlong forward. The incessant rattle of musketry, the 
roar of artillery, the crashing of grape-shot, and the lurid light flung 
over the scene by the explosions of shells and by the streams of fire 
pouring from the fort were enough to appal the stoutest hearts ; but 
the Americans, nothing daunted, pressed steadily forward, advancing 
at quick -step up the hill, and sweeping like a living wave over the 
ramparts of the enemy. In vain the British maintained their de- 
structive and incessant fire : in vain, when the assailants reached 
the fort, the defenders met them, breast to breast : silent, steady, 
with unbroken front, the Americans moved on, pushing the enemy, 
by main force, from his walls, and bearing down every thing before 
their torrent of ghttering steel. The two columns were not a minute 
apart in entering their respective sides of the fort, and met, victo- 
riously, in the middle of the enclosure. Here, for the first time, the 
silence of the Americans was broken ; for, finding the place their 
own, loud and continued shouts rent the air. The enemy was now 
supplicating for quarters on all sides. And though the assailants 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 397 

would have been justified, by the laws of war, in putting the gar- 
rison to death, every man was spared who asked for quarter, nor 
was a solitary individual injured after the surrender. The whole 
loss of the Americans was about one hundred. The British suffered 
in killed, wounded and captured, six hundred and seven. 

For this gallant action, Wayne received a gold medal from Con- 
gress. Washington wrote, "He improved on the plan recommended 
by me, and executed it in a manner that does honor to his judgment 
and bravery." Lee, who had lately had a difference with Wayne, 
forgot it in the admiration of this dashing enterprise, and in a com- 
phmentary letter, said, " I do most sincerely declare, that your assault 
of Stony Point is not only the most brilliant, in my opinion, through- 
out the whole course of the war on either side, but that it is the most 
brilliant I am acquainted with in history; the assault of Schweidnitz 
by Marshal Laudon, I think inferior to it." The credit of this splen- 
did action is chieiiy due to the Pennsylvania line, from which most 
of the storming party were drawn. No veteran European troops 
could have behaved with more resolution. It is not known that a 
single trigger was pulled, on the part of the Americans, during the 
assault. The thanks of Congress, and of the Pennsylvania Legislature 
were unanimously bestowed on the officers and soldiers engaged in 
this gallant exploit. The wound of Wayne, on examination, proved 
slight ; and he was able, an hour after the victory, to write the fol- 
lowing characteristic letter to Washington. 

" Dear General : — 

" The fort and garrison, with Colonel Johnston, are ours. Oui 
officers and men behaved hke men who are determined to be free 
^' Yours, most sincerely, 

, "Anthony Wayne." 

In July, 1780, Wayne was employed in beating up the refugees of 
East Jersey, and on the 20th of that month made a gallant, though 
not altogether successful attack on their depot at Bergen Neck. The 
next event in the life of Wayne was the revolt of the Pennsylvania 
line, and his agency in restoring order. The ca.use of this mutiny was 
entirely owing to the misery of the troops. Had common justice been 
awarded these brave men they never would have risen against Con- 
gress ; but when to a neglect of pay, and a want of provisions, was 
added a fraudulent attempt to increase the term for which they had 
enlisted, the soldiers naturally rebelled. A few unquestionably took 
advantage of the mutiny to leave a service of which they were tired; 

II 



398 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



but that the majority of the Pennsylvania line deserves censure, 
no one. who understands the facts, is now prepared to say. The 
mutineers refused all the offers of Sir Henry Clinton, returning the 




GENERAL WAYNE ATTEMPTING TO QTTELL THE MUTINY OF THE TROOPS. 



memorable answer that "their patience, but not their patriotism, 
was exhausted.'^ Justice has never been done the common soldiers 
of the Revolution. Those humble, but brave men, endured every 
extremity of hunger, cold, and privation, and, at last, after years of 
service, were dismissed unrewarded, to beg their way home. No 
honors alleviated their misery, no prospect of plenty cheered their 
despondency. They were thrown aside like useless lumber that is 
no longer required. They saw the very persons whose liberties they 
fought to win active in doing injustice to them, and others making 
fortunes out of their necessities. What wonder they revolted ! Few 
of the IS^w England troops enlisted for such long terms as those of 
the middle states, and consequently were spared the protracted suf- 
ferings endured year after 3'"ear, by the Peimsylvania Ime. We 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 399 

may deplore this munity, on account of its pernicious example, but 
certainly never had mutineers such provocation ! 

On the 7th of June, 1781, Wayiie joined La Fayette in Virginia, 
with the remains of the Pennsylvania Line, now reduced to eleven 
hundred rank and file. On hearing of the junction of the two 
Generals, Lord Cornwallis retreated to Williamsburg, and on the 
5th of July, still retiring, prepared to cross the river James at 
Jamestown Ferry. La Fayette, believing that most of the British 
force had crossed, despatched Wayne with seven hundred men to 
attack the remainder. But, after driving in the pickets, Wayne 
found himself in the presence of the whole British army, instead of 
the rear guard. The enemy was but a hundred paces distant, and 
perceiving his small force, extended his wings to enclose Wayne. 
This was just such a crisis as fully awoke the genius of the Ameri- 
can General. He saw that to retreat then would be ruin, and 
accordingly he ordered his men to charge with the bayonet. The 
little band, obedient to his word, dashed forward. The British, so 
lately on the point of advancing, fell back, confident, from Wayne's 
bold front, that he was supported by a large force near at hand. By 
this stroke the British were checked, and Wayne enabled to retire 
without being pursued. No incident of the war is more characteris- 
tic of the impetuous yet sagacious genius of Wayne than this aftair. 
Cornwallis continued his retreat to Yorktown, where, three months 
later, he surrendered to Washington. Wayne was present at that 
siege, and, with his gallant troops, was of great service. 

After the fall of the British army, Wayne was despatched to 
Georgia, his instructions being to bring that state under the authority 
of the confederation. His command consisted of about one hundred 
dragoons, three hundred continentals, and three hundred militia : yet 
with this paltry force, in little more than a month, he chased the 
British from the interior of the state and defeated the Creeks, their 
allies. On the 20th of May, 1782, he surprised a portion of the 
Indians at Ogechee, and repulsed them with great slaughter : and 
three days afterwards he met the remainder and almost exterminated 
them. On the 12th of July, 1782, the British evacuated Georgia. 
Wayne was now ordered to South Carolina by General Greene, 
Commander-in-chief of the southern department, who complimented 
him highly on his address, sagacity, prudence and energy during the 
iate campaign. After this, no especial occasion arose for the services 
of Wayne, until the evacuation of Charleston, but on that eventful 
dav he commanded the advanced guard of the Americans, to whom 



400 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



"was entrusted the taking possession of the town. Wayne's troops 
entered the city as soon as the British began their march to the 
water-side, and followed up the enemy so closely that the royal 
soldiers frequently tnrned and said "You press too fast upon us." 
On this, Wayne would check his troops, but, m a few minutes, in 
their exhilaration, they would again be at the heels of the foe : and 
thus, with martial music playing triumphant airs, and the windows 
crowded with ladies waving handkerchiefs in welcome, the long 
banished Americans re-entered Charleston ! 

In July, 1783, Wayne returned to civil life, settling in his native 
state. In 1784 he was elected a member of the Pennsylvania Le- 
gislature, and served for two sessions. In 1792, after the. defeat of 
St. Clair, Wayne was appointed, by Washington, to the command 
of the United States army. This selection, under the circumstances, 
proves the high estimate formed by the President, of Wayne's abili- 
ties On the ] St of September, 1793, having vainly tried to negotiate 




GEXEEAL VVAYXE'S DEFEAT OF THE INDIANS ON THE MlAm 



with the savages, Wayne formed a camp near Cincinnati, and devoted 
ftis time, for the next month, to drilling his troops. He then removed 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 401 

to a location he had selected on one of the branches of the big Miami 
River, and here established his winter quarters. About the middle 
of the ensuing year, having been reinforced by a body of mounted 
volunteers from Kentucky, he marched to attack the enemy, who 
had encamped near the Rapids, in the vicinity of a British fort, 
erected in defiance of the treaty. The van of his army consisting 
of mounted volunteers, was first attacked, and with such im- 
petuosity as to be driven in. Wayne immediately formed his 
army in two lines. He soon found that the Indians were in fuL 
force in front, concealed in high grass and woods, and were 
endeavoring to turn his left flank. Accordingly he ordered the 
first line to advance wth the bayonet, and rouse the savages 
from their coverts; at the same time he directed the mounted vol- 
unteers and the legion of cavalry to turn the right and left flanks 
of the enemy respectively. The front line advanced with such 
rapidity that neither the second line which had been commanded to 
support it, nor the cavalry on the flanks, could come up in time : the 
Indians being started from their hiding places by the prick of the 
bayonet, and driven in terror and dismay, for two miles in less than 
an hour, by half theii number. The savages numbered about two 
thousand in this battle. After the victory, the commander of the 
British fort having sent notice to Wayne, not to approach within 
reach of the fire of his fort, the American General, with becoming 
spirit, burnt every thing of value within sight of the works, and up 
to the very muzzles of the guns. This signal defeat of the Indians 
led to the treaty of Greenville, by which large accessions of territory 
were gained for the United States. It struck such terror into the 
savages that, for nearly twenty years, there was no attempt on their 
part to renew the struggle. ISTor was this all ; for the British, who 
bad fomented these disturbances, finding that th^ir machinations 
would be of no avail, soon after consented to the Jay treaty, and 
abandoned the posts they had illegally seized. Through the 
whole of this Indian campaign, as through that in Georgia, 
Wayne evinced equal prudence, sagacity and boldness. 

Wayne died at Presque Isle, from an attack of the gout, on the 
15th of December, 1796. He was on his return from the west, 
whither he had gone to treat with the north-western Indians, 
and receive the surrender of the British military posts. In 1809 
his remains were transported to the burial-ground of Radnor 
Church, in Chester county, Pennsylvania. A monument, erected 
by the Pennsylvania State Society of Cincinnati, marks the 
present spot of his interment. 

51 n* 



402 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



The soubriquet of "Mad Anthony," by which Wayne was popu- 
larly known in the Revohition, was first apphed to him by a witless 
fellow about the camp, and was immediately adopted by the soldiers 
as expressive of his daring and headlong courage. 








COUNT PULASKI. 



OUNT Casimir Pulaski, 
General of Cavalry in the 
American army, was born 
in Poland, in the year 
1747. By birth and alli- 
ance he was connected 
with some of the noblest 
famiUes of that kingdom, 
especially with the prince- 
ly house of Czartorinsky. 
He came of age at a criti- 
cal period. The election 
of Poniato wsky , produced 
as it had been by the 
armed interference of Rus- 
sia, instigated a portion of 
the nation to revolt, and, 
at the head of the insur 
gents stood the father of Pulaski. The sons of this patriot, then 
scarcely arrived at manhood, embarked in the cause with enthusiasm, 
' 403 




404 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

|[ and, in the civil war that followed, between the confederates and the 

'' monarch, signally distinguished themselves. Casimir Pulaski soon 

became renowned for his exploits as a cavalry officer. One by one 
his relatives fell in the struggle, yet still he maintained the contest. 
At last, an abortive attempt to carry off the person of the king, 
having been represented as an effort at his assasination, the odium 
became so universal that all who participated in it, directly or indi- 
rectly, thought it advisable to leave the kingdom. Among these was 
Casimir Pulaski, who had been in the secrets of the conspirators, 
though without any active share in the attempt. Before he bade 
adieu to his native soil forever he published a manifesto, in which 
he declared his innocence of the crime imputed to him. His de- 
parture was hastened by the arrival of Austrian and Prussian troops, 
which now began to pour into Poland, ostensibly to protect her 
monarch, but in reality to prepare for her partition. 

Thus, at the age of twenty-five, Pulaski found himself an exile, 
homeless, fatherless, without brothers, without friends. But his 
name had gone before him. The memxOry of his miraculous escapes 
from the Russians, of the gallantry with which he had so often de- 
feated them, of his generosity, patriotism and nobleness of heart was 
everywhere vivid in Europe ; and when, towards the close of the 
year 1776, he suddenly appeared in Paris, after almost incredible 
perils and adventures in Turkey, he became the centre of curiosity 
to that mercuial capital. But his intention was not to remain in 
France. The American Revolution was beginning to attract the 
eyes of Europe, and Pulaski resolved to fight the battles of freedom 
on a distant shore. The Court of Versailles secretly encouraged his 
intention ; and Franklin gave him letters of introduction to Congress. 
In the summer of 1777 he arrived at Philadelphia, and immediately 
joined the army as a volunteer. Hitherto there had been no cavalry 
force of consequence belonging to the Americans. There were four 
regiments of dragoons, it is true ; but they never acted together, and, 
on Pulaski's arrival, the cavalry was under no higher officer than a 
Colonel. Washington had long felt the want of a competent force 
of this description, properly commanded ; and now he hastened to 
solicit for Pulaski the post of General of the Cavalry, and the rank of 
Brigadier. Before a decision was made, the battle of Brandy wine 
occurred. Pulaski was a volunteer, and remained inactive until the 
close of the action ; but then, finding the enemy about to cut off the 
baggage, he asked the loan of Washington's body-guard, and with 
these thirty horsemen, and a few scattered dragoons he picked up, 
charged the British several, times in so brilliant a manner as to drive 



COUNT PULASKI. 405 

them back and secure the retreat. Four days afterwards he received 
the command of the cavahy, with the rank of a Brigadier. 

Pulaski held this post for onl^r five months, at the end of which 
period he resigned. 1 he command had not answered his expecta- 
tions. He was one of those fiery spirits who must be constantly in 
action. To carry out his daring plans, he required a force always 
ready and at his service. But the nature of the American warfare 
required that the cavalry should be separated into small parties, and 
at the disposal of the different divisions of the army. Pulaski saw 
that he would never be able, while at the head of such a force, to 
fulfil the expectations formed of him. Accordingly he solicited per- 
mission to raise an independent corps, which was to consist of 
cavalry armed with lances and of foot equipped as Hght infantry. 
The renown of his name soon drew recruits to his standard. In a 
few months he had enlisted three hundred and thirty, which was 
sixty more than at first proposed. The corps was called Pulaski's 
Legion, and was of vast service in the subsequent campaigns. It 
was the model on which Lee's and Armand's legions were after- 
wards formed. Its gallantry soon passed into a proverb. Whenevei 
the towering hussar cap of Pulaski was seen in a fight, men knew 
that d ei s of heroic valor were at hand. 

His career, however, was soon cut short. In February, 1779, he 
was sent to the south with his legion. He was approaching Charles- 
ton when he heard of the movement of Prevost on that place. Se- 
lecting his ablest men and horses, he pushed forward by forced 
marches and entered the city on the 8th of May. Three days after- 
wards the enemy appeared before the town. The consternation was 
universal. But Pulaski, sallying forth at the head of his legion and 
a few mounted volunteers, made a dashing assault on the foe ; and 
though the immediate results were not great, the boldness and spirit 
of the attack restored confidence to the alarmed citizens. On the 
retreat of Prevost, a few days after, Pulaski followed him up, 
liarassing his army at every assailable point. In the autumn, d'Es- 
taing appeared on the coast, and the memorable siege of Savannah 
was undertaken. When it was decided to attempt carrying the 
works by assault, Pulaski was assigned the command of both the 
French and American cavalry. The disastrous result of the day is 
well known. The allies were repulsed with immense slaughter. 
Pulaski was numbered with the slain. He had been stationed in the 
rear of the advanced columns, but when he heard of the havoc made 
among the French troops in crossing the swamp that lay between 
them and the works, he turned to his companions, and shaking his 



406 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION, 



sabre over his head, called to them to follow : then giving spurs to 
his horse, he rushed forward, though almost blinded by the smoke, 
and pressed right through the fire of the hostile batteries, his clear, 
ringing voice heard, continually, between the explosions of the artil- 
lery. Suddenly a swivel-shot struck him in the groin, as he was 
swiftly dashing on. He reeled back, the sabre dropped from his 
hand, and he fell to the ground mortally wounded. 

He lingered, for some days, after the repulse.; and at last died on 
board the U. S. brig Wasp, as she was leaving the mouth of the Sa- 
vannah river. His body was committed to the deep. Congress, on 
hearing of his untimely death, voted that a monument should be 
erected to his memory. The resolution, however, has never been 
carried into effect ; but a beautiful cenotaph has been put up in Sa- 
vannah by private subscription. Pulaski died at the age of thirty- 
two. There is a melancholy fitness in the place of his sepulture ; 
he had no country, and he has no grave ! 





ROBERT KIRKWOOD 




OBERT KIRKWOOD, a Captain in the con- 
tinental line, was born in Newcastle count v, 
Delaware, in the year 1756. He fell on the 
bloody iield of Miami, November the 4th, 
1792, being, at the time of his death, the oldest 
Captain on the list. His career is an example 
of bravery unrewarded, and patriotism conti- 
nuing unabated notwithstanding neglect. He entered the army in 
1776, as a Lieutenant in the regiment of his native state, and Cv)[jii- 
nued with it to the close of the contest, when he came out its senior 
officer. Yet, as the regiment had been reduced to a Captain's com- 
mand by the casualties of the service, he had risen to no higher rank, 
than a Captain, the regulations prohibiting his promotion under such 
circumstances. It must ever be a subject of regret that Kirk wood 
was not raised to a loftier position. Both personally, and in con- 
sideration of the services of his regiment, one of the most gallant in 
che arniy, he deserved a Colonel's, if not a Brigadier's commission. 
This self-sacrificing soldier risked his life for his country oftener, 
perhaps, than any other officer in the army. The battle in which 
iie fell was the thirty-third he had fought. He was present at Long 
Island, Trenton and Princeton as a Lieutenant. Being promoted to 
a captaincy in 1777, he fought in that rank, with his brave Dela- 
warians, at Brandy wine, Gerrnantown and Monmoutli. In 1780 he 
accompanied Gates to South Carolina. At the battle of Camden, 
the little band of Kirkwood, in conjunction with the Maryland line, 
desperately maintained the sinking fortunes of the day under 
DeKalb, and by their veteran courage, still struggling after all 
others had lied, covered themselves with immortal glory. One fact 
will forcibly present the heroic valor of Kirkwood's troops, and the 
awful carnage of the battle. Of eight companies of the Delaware 

407 



408 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTl N. 

regiment that went into battle, but two came out, the remainder 
being either killed or made prisoners. In this conflict Colone; 
Vaughan and Major Patton, Kirkwood's superior officers, were made 
captive, and continued so until the close of the war, a circumstance 
which also would have prevented his promotion, even if it had not 
been forbidden by the regulation we have named. 

After the fatal day of Camden, the two Delaware companies were 
attached as light infantry to Lee's legion. In this capacity they 
rendered invaluable service. With Kirkwood at their head, they 
formed part of the gallant rear-guard which protected the army of 
Greene during his retreat to the Dan. At Guilford Court House, at 
Hobkirk's Hill, and at Eutaw Springs, they fought valiantly, mind- 
ful of their past glories and eager for new laurels; until at last, dis- 
ciplined by so many conflicts, no sooner did these scarred and im- 
passable veterans appear on any part of the field mian confidence 
immediately filled every heart. But it was at the Cowpens that 
the coolness of their leader, and their own more than Roman firm- 
ness shone forth conspicuously. When Colonel Howard was ordered 
to charge, at the crisis of that battle, Kirkwood was at the head of 
the first platoon of that officer's corps ; and promptly springing for- 
ward ten paces in advance, he charged with his espontoon, calling, 
in a confident voice, for the men to "come on!" The example 
stimulated the whole regiment. The long line of bayonets was 
levelled on the instant, and the soldiers dashed forward to that 
memorable charge. 

On the conclusion of the war, Kirkwood, through the influence of 
Washington, was made a Major by brevet. He now devoted him- 
self to agricultural pursuits. But when the incursions of the Indians 
rendered it necessary to send an army to chastise them, Kirkwood 
again took the field, the oldest captain of the oldest regiment in the Uni- 
ted States. In the battle of Miami, at which St. Clair was routed, Kirk- 
wood, though he had been ill for several days, fought with the most 
desperate courage, cheering his own men on, and inspiring others also 
by his daring example. At last he was shot through the abdomen and 
fell. When the retreat was ordered he craAvled to a tree, and in this 
situation a companion found him, and proposed to carry him off". 
" No," said the hero, " I am dying : save yourself, if you can ; and 
leave me to my fate. But, as the last act of friendship you can con- 
fer on me, blow my brains out. I see the Indians coming, and God 
knows how they will treat me." His friend was afl'ected to tears. He 
shook the dying soldier by the hand, and left him to his fate. Kirk- 
wood was never heard of more ! 



ii^*^ 







BARON DE KALB. 




most absurd 
52 



m^ lib ARON DE KALB, a Major-Gene- 
01 ral in the oontinental army, was born 
^ in Germany, though at what place 
is not known, about the year 1720. 
^K He served with distinction in the 
p war of 1755, being attached to the 
^ imperial army, at the time it was 
in alliance with that of France. 
Towards the close of that contest 
he visited America as an agent of 
the Court of Versailles, and was 
so struck with the loyalty of the 
inhabitants, that he was accustom- 
ed, during the Revolution, to say, 
that nothing but a series of the 
blunders on the part of the British Government, could 
KK 409 



410 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

have alienated such devoted adherents. He rose in the French 

service to the rank of Brigadier. 

De Kalb, like Steuben and Pulaski, came to the United States at 
the instigation of the French Government; and it is even believed 
that he acted as a secret agent for the Court of Versailles. Such a 
confidential messenger it was of extreme importance for France to 
have here, in consequence of the conflicting accounts received at 
Paris of the strength, disposition and zeal of the colonists. The 
Baron was a keen observer of character ; possessed of an accurate 
judgment; with great knowledge of men and things; simple in his 
manners, affable, winning and amiable. On his arrival in America 
he was appointed a Major-General in the army, and speedily won 
all hearts by his frankness and condescension. His experience was 
of great service to the cause. 

The Baron served nearly three years in the armies of the United 
States, having arrived in this country with La Fayette in 1777. In 
his mode of life he was exceedingly abstemious, maintaining the 
same temperate diet, to which he had been accustomed in his youth 
and poverty. He lived chiefly on beef-soup and bread; and drank 
nothing but water. His habits were industrious. He was accus- 
tomed, in summer, to rise with the dawn; and in winter, before day. 
He spent much of his time in writing, employing hieroglyphics and 
large folio books. This favored the idea to which we have alluded, 
and which was generally circulated through the army, that he was 
an agent of the Court of France. He betrayed unceasing jealousy 
lest his journals should be perused; and seemed to be very anxious 
respecting the safety of his baggage, which could only have been 
valuable on account of these manuscripts. What became of his 
papers was never known. If they were such as has been presumed, 
they, perhaps, passed into the hands of the French Ambassador. 

On the disastrous field of Camden, he commanded the regulars, 
and made the most desperate exertions to change the fortunes of the 
day. For three-quarters of an hour, at the head of these brave 
troops, he stemmed the tide of victory. He charged the enemy 
incessantly with the bayonet, and once took several prisoners. But 
even heroic courage was in vain. The struggle grew, every 
moment, more hopeless for De Kalb. The militia having fled in 
all directions, Cornwallis concentrated all his forces for a decisive 
attack on the continentals, and the cavalry coming up at the same 
time, penetrated through and through the opposing ranks, sabring 
them without mercy. De Kalb, fighting on foot in this last despe- 
rate moment, fell under eleven wounds. At his fall, the fog stil. 



BARON DE EALB. 411 

concealed the flight of Gates ; and it was some time before the dying 
hero could be made to believe the Americans were defeated. 

His loss immediately broke the courage of the troops. The flight 
now became general. A third of the brave regulars, however, were 
left on the ground, and, in their midst, lay the gallant old man who 
had rallied them to that terrible strife. Exhausted and bleeding, his 
uniform soiled by the struggle, he was undistiuguishable from the 
common mass; and as the enemy came rushing on, a dozen bayonets 
were presented at his bosom. At this instant his Aid-de-camp, Du 
Buyssen, with a disregard of his own peril that should render his 
memory immortal, threw himself above the body and extending his 
arms, cried, " Save the Uaron De Kalb — save the Baron De Kalb.'^ 
The petition was not in vain. In the confusion of the moment a 
few additional wounds were received by the fallen General, but a 
British officer interposing, he was preserved from further danger 
and borne from the fatal field. Du Buyssen himself was wounded 
in several places, in consequence of this generous effort to defend 
his friend : but, instead of regretting this, he pointed to his wounds 
with pride, declaring he wished they had been greater, if that would 
have availed. 

De Kalb lived several days after the battle. He was treated with 
every attention by the enemy, but no skill could save his life, and 
when he found his end approaching, he prepared *to die like a soldier 
and a hero. His last moments were devoted to the gallant conti- 
nentals of his division, the troops of the Maryland and Delaware 
line, who had stood by him on the field of Camden and performed 
such prodigies of valor. He dictated a letter to General Smallwood, 
who succeeded to the command of this division, expressing his 
sincere aff'ection for the officers and men, dilating, at the same 
time, on the glow of admiration their late conduct had awakened in 
his bosom, and repeating the encomiums which it had extorted from 
the enemy. Then, finding the dimness of death stealing over his 
vision, he stretched out his hand to the faithful Du Buyssen, and 
said, " Tell my brave fellows I died thinking of them — tell them 
they behaved like veterans." After this, he closed his eyes, and 
sank placidly into the arms of death. 

De Kalb was a friend to America, not from mercenary motives, 
but from a sense of the justice of her cause. When the British 
officer who had captured him, condoled with him on his approach- 
ing dissolution, the^Baron replied : " I thank you for your generous 
sympathy, but I die the death I always prayed for ; the death of a 
soldier fighting for the rights of man." 



412 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



Years after his death, Washington, standing by his grave, said 
" So, there Ues the brave De Kalb : the generous stranger who came 
from a distant land to fight our battles, and to water with his blood 
the tree of liberty. Would to God he had lived to share its fruits !" 

Congress resolved to erect a monument to his remains with a 
suitable inscription, and the city of Annapolis, in Maryland, was 
chosen for the place of its erection. 





TOKKTOWN BATTLS-OEOUNT 



MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE 




ILBERT MOTTIER, 
Marquis de La Fay- 
ette, a Major-General 
in the American army, 
is celebrated for leaving 
a luxurious home, the 
splendors of rank, and 
a beloved wife, to fight 
the battles of a strange 
people, struggling, in a 
distant continent, for 
freedom. This gene- 
rous act will render his 
name immortal. He 
was born of an ancient 
family in France, in the province of Auvergne, on the 6th of Sep- 
tember, 1757 Possessed of an immense estate, and surrounded by 
all the temptations of a profligate court, it is a wonder that he was 



KK' 



413 



414 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

able to preserve his heart so comparatively pure and fresh. At 
sixteen he was united in marriage to a daughter of the Noailles 
family, a union which, unlike most of those of the nobility, was 
attended by felicity. Adopting the profession of a soldier. La Fay- 
ette, at nineteen, was stationed, as Captain of Dragoons, at Metz, 
one of the garrisoned towns of France. It was while here, in the 
summer of 1776, that he met the Duke of Gloucester, brother to the 
King of England, at a grand entertainment given by the commandant 
to this distinguished visitor, and listened while the prince narrated 
the revolt of the American colonies and their subsequent Declaration 
of Independence. La Fayette was fascinated by what he heard. 
Naturally of a warm and somewhat imaginative spirit, he conceived 
the idea of offering his sword to the Americans. He consulted several 
of his friends, but received little encouragement. He did not, how- 
ever, abandon his project. At last he met the Baron de Kalb, who 
was himself about to join the colonists, and through his influence 
was introduced to Silas Deane, the American Commissioner in Paris. 
Mr. Deane, by his vivid pictures of the struggle, enlisted more 
warmly than ever the sympathies of his young visitor, and finally 
La Fayette declared his fixed determination to offer his services to 
Congress. The rank of Major-General, in consequence, was pro- 
mised him by the Commissioner. 

La Fayette was stilV in Paris, however, when the news was 
received of the disastrous campaign of 1776. At the same time 
arrived Dr. Franklin and Arthur Lee, who had been sent to France 
to join Silas Deane. Both these gentlemen, under the altered cir- 
cumstances of the case, endeavored to persuade La Fayette against 
prosecuting his orighia] intention. But the young hero was not to 
be deterred. His wife secretly exhorted him to persevere, fired by 
an enthusiasm as holy as his own. He resolved accordingly to 
purchase a vessel, to freight it with supplies, and to set sail without 
delay for the shores of America. His intention having been dis- 
covered, a royal order was issued to detain his person ; but making 
his escape to Spain, in company with De Kalb and ten. other officers 
he succeeded in embarking from that kingdom. His passage was 
protracted, stormy and perilous. He landed near Georgetown, 
South Carolina, and spent his first night at the house of Major 
Huger. Losing no time in unnecessary delay, he hastened to 
Charleston, and thence to Philadelphia, where he immediately sent 
his recommendations to the Committee on Foreign Relations. The 
answer was promptly returned that, in consequence of the number 
of such applications, it was doubted whether he could obtain a 



MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE. 415 

commission. The truth is that Congress had already found itself 
embarrassed by the unreasonable promises made, on its behalf, by 
Silas Deane to numerous foreign adventurers. Without waiting, 
therefore, to scrutinize the claims of La Fayette, the Committee, 
fancying his case was similar to the others, returned this discou- 
raging answer. But La Fayette was not to be repulsed. He had 
come to America from a sincere desire to aid the struggling colonists, 
not from mere love of rank or desire for emoluments. Accordingly 
he sent a note to the President, offering his services as a volunteer, 
and refusing to accept pay. This language, so different from that 
usually employed, induced an examination of his letters. The 
obstacles which he had overcome in reaching our shores soon began 
to be whispered about, moreover; and the result of all was an 
instant acceptance of his offers, and the tender of a commission as 
Major-General. 

It was at a dinner party that La Fayette was first introduced to 
Washington. The Commander-in-chief took him apart and con- 
versed with him in the most flattering manner, and this little 
attention so fixed the gratitude of the young noble, that from that 
hour, he was entirely devoted to the hero. With that insight into 
character which was one of the prominent traits of Washington, he 
saw, at once, the excellent heart, the modesty, and the abilities of 
the Marquis ; and when he recalled to mind the dangers La Fayette 
had braved, as well as the risk he had run, the Commander-in-chief 
could not withhold his affection. He invited La Fayette accordingly 
to make head-quarters his home. The love that grew up between 
the young noble and the august hero is one of the most beautiful 
incidents in our Revolutionary history. It was on the one part 
something of the affection of a parent, tempered with that of a 
brother ; on the other, not unlike that of a son, sweetened by a more 
equal relationship. On one side the consciousness of superior wis- 
dom and talent only increased the love of the elder ; on the other 
the reverential respect of the younger hallowed, while it exalted his 
devotion. No subsequent events ever disturbed the harmony of that 
mutual regard. When Lee, at the battle of Monmouth, after first 
refusing, insisted on receiving the command of the attacking party, 
it became necessary to displace La Fayette, yet the latter submitted 
without a complaint, satisfied with the explanations of Washington. 
When the Conway cabal, at the head of the Board of War, planned 
the expedition against Canada, it appointed La Fayette to the chief 
command in order to detach him from the interests of the Com* 
mander-in-chief ; but the Marquis no sooner penetrated the designs 



416 THE HKROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

of the conspirators, than he took occasion to express, in plain terms, 
his dissent from them, and in consequence the enterprise was suf- 
fered to drop. At the close of the war, before sailing for his native 
country, La Fayette visited Mount Vernon, and on his departure, 
Washington rode several miles with him. They never met again ! 

The services of La Fayette, during the war, were many and 
important. He first fought at the battle of Brandy wine, where he 
served as a volunteer, and where, exposing himself with the greatest 
intrepidity, he was severely wounded in the leg. For two months, 
in consequence of this injury, he was debarred from active service. 
In the succeeding winter, the expedition to Canada was projected. 
In May he distinguished himself by his retreat from Barren Hill, in 
the face of a much superior force of the enemy. At the battle of 
Monmouth, in June, 1778, he acted with the highest spirit. During 
the siege of Newport, after d'Estaing had signified his intention to 
visit Boston to re-fit. La Fayette rendered the most important services 
to America, by healing the breach which the obstinacy of the French 
Admiral and the heat of Sullivan's temper had caused. The war 
which broke out between England and France at this period, the 
result of the treaty between the latter power and America, altered 
La Fayette's relations, in his opinion, towards his native country, 
and he considered it his duty accordingly to return to Paris, and 
off'er his aid to his King, in whose service he still continued. Con- 
gress granted him an unlimited leave of absence, and caused a 
sword to be presented to him, with suitable devices. He reached 
the shores of France, on the 12th of February, 1779, after an absence 
of about two years, and was immediately hailed with enthusiasm, 
especially by the people; and though for awhile the Court behaved 
coldly towards him, he was finally received into favor, and a com- 
mand in the King's own regiment of dragoons bestowed on him. 

In March, 1780, after a sojourn of a year in his native land. La 
Fayette returned to the United States. He came, bringing intelli- 
gence of the resolution of France to sustain the colonies with a 
large army, and in consequence was welcomed with the most rap- 
turous enthusiasm, and hailed, after Washington, as the saviour 
of the country ! Congress noticed his return with complimentary 
resolutions. One of the first acts he was called on to perform, was to 
sit as a member of the Board that tried Andre. In the spring of 1781 
he was sent into Virginia, where his manoeuvres against Cornwallis 
gained him the highest credit. He acted, in this campaign, with 
such consummate judgment, that though the English General often 
exclaimed "that boy cannot escape me," every plan for his capture 



MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE, 417 

was frustrated, and he finally enjoyed the pleasure of seeing his 
boastful antagonist reduced to the mortification of a surrender. Nor 
was the devotion of La Fayette to his adopted country less con- 
spicuous than his military ability. On one occasion, his men being 
in want of necessaries, and the treasury empty, he raised the sum 
required, in Baltimore, on his personal responsibility. He was present 
at the siege of Yorktown, where he commanded the detachment of 
American troops that stormed one of the two redoubts of the enemy. 
There had been some playful remarks among the allies, as to whether 
the French or Americans would carry their respective redoubts first. 
La Fayette stormed his with such impetuosity that the men rushed 
in without waiting for the abatis to be removed. He sent word of 
this success to the Baron de Viomenel, who commanded the French 
detachment. " Tell the Marquis we are not yet in, but shall be, in 
five minutes,'' was the reply, and the Baron was as good as his 
word. 




moobe's house— yorktown— where the capitulation was signed. 

After the fall of Cornwallis, La Fayette sailed for France, bui 
re-visited America in 1784. He was received with enthusiasm 
wherever he came. Cities and states. Legislatures and Congress 
vied with each other in demonstrations of respect towards him ; and 
when he departed for his native shores, the world witnessed the 
spectacle of a young man, scarcely twenty-five, carrying with him 
the regrets of a whole nation. In France almost equal honors 
53 



418 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

awaited him. He had been appointed a Major-General in the 
French army, his commission to date from the surrender of Corn- 
wallis; and the Revolution, which soon after succeeded, elevated 
him to new honors, and a power superior to that even of royalty. 
His career, during the troubled times that succeeded, it does not 
become us to paint. He has been charged with imbecility, but 
without justice, for his conduct throughout was temperate and patri- 
otic, if not always sagacious and wise. There were two things in 
the character of La Fayette which prevented his permanent ascend- 
ancy in the French Revolution. He was too honest himself for the 
men who labored with him, and he mistook the condition and wants 
of the people. He fancied a republic, hke that of the United States, 
could be established on the ruins of the diseased monarchy of France, 
and that those who had been ignorant subjects could, by mere voli- 
tion, become competent rulers. Never was there a greater mistake. 
America, in shaking off her allegiance and establishing a republic, 
in reality altered her form of government but little, and the difference 
between the old state of things and new consisted more in names 
than in things ; but in France the change was radical, and affected 
the social as well, as the political frame of society. The intellect of 
La Fayette was more imitative than original. He had learned to 
reverence the counsels of Washington, and consider the government of 
the United States the most perfect in the world ; and hence con- 
cluded that nothing could be better adapted to France. But he 
totally forgot the vast difference between the people of the two coun- 
tries, and other circumstances, of which a more profound statesman 
would not have lost sight. 

On the 12th of July, 1789, the bastile was destroyed, and, from 
that hour, the violence of the Revolution increased every hour. The 
old spirit of brutality and massacre, the elements of which the pro- 
phetic eye of Burke had seen existing as far back as 1774, .now 
broke forth with insatiate fury, and, for four years, Paris was deli- 
vered over to all the terrors of anarchy. The Tuilleries were 
stormed on the 10th of August, 1792, and the consthutional mon- 
archy overthrown. In the succeeding month the massacres in the 
prisons occurred. In January, 1793, the King was beheaded. In the 
Spring ll:e Girondists were overthrown, and after them Danton; and 
then, for one long year of horror, Robespierre raged, like a wild 
beast athirst for blood. The reign of terror froze every heart with 
fear. But La Fayette did not remain to v/itness this sanguinary 
drama. Finding himself, after the execution of the King, beset by 
suspicion, and satisfied that purity of motive would be no defence 



MARQUIS DE LA FAYETTE. 419 

against the men who then ruled at Paris, he determined to fly ; and 
accordingly, on receiving secret intelligence that he had been de- 
nounced as a traitor in the National Assembly, he abandoned the com- 
mand of the army, and rode hastily toward the enemy's posts. At 
Liege he was seized by the Austrians, who, in defiance of his coming 
as a fugitive, and not as an enemy, delivered him to the Prussians, 
who were then at war with France. By these he was confined in 
the fortress of Magdeburg, in a damp, gloomy and subterraneous 
vault. On an exchange of prisoners taking place between France 
and Prussia, La Fayette was transferred to the charge of Austria, 
in order to avoid including him in the cartel. He was now thrown 
into a dungeon, in the fortress of Olmutz, in Moravia. 

Here, excluded from all communication with the outer world, and 
deprived of a knife and fork, lest he should commit suicide in his 
despair, he lingered out several years. During his imprisonment an 
unsuccessful attempt at his liberation was made on the part of a 
young American named Huger, and a German named Bollman, 
both of whom, being detected, were chained by the neck to the 
floors of separate cells, for a space of six months. At last, towards 
the close of 1795, the rigor of La Fayette's confinement was miti- 
gated in part, and his wife permitted to join him, though only on 
condition that she should never again return to freedom. Finally, 
through the intercession of Washington, and what was even more 
efiective, the 'threats of Napoleon, La Fayette was set at liberty, 
though with shattered health and broken fortunes. 

On the fall of the Directory, which soon occurred. La Fayette 
returned to France and established himself at Lagrange. Napoleon 
was now First Consul, and, with that sagacious policy which always 
distinguished him, sought to make La Fayette his partizan. But the 
pupil of Washington was too true a republican to be thus seduced. 
He constantly opposed the arbitrary course of the Emperor, and 
assisted to produce his fall in 1815. 

In 1824, La Fayette visited the United States for the last time. 
Forty years had passed since he had departed from our shores, and 
in that time one generation had passed away and another filled half 
its allotted period. The republic which he had left m its infancy 
had grown into a mighty nation. Where there had been pathless 
forests were now populated towns. In all the chief cities he Avas 
welcomed with processions, with civic banquets, with the unbought 
huzzas of thousands of spectators. Occasionally, in the crowds that 
flocked to greet him, he would distinguish some grey-haired vetercn, 
the companion of his revolutionary campaigns, and the two would 



420 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



rush together with tears that affected all who beheld the scene 
When he returned to France, a national vessel was offered to carry 
hini liOme. In the whole range of history, ancient or modern, there 
is no instance of similar honors being paid to any hero, by the free 
and spontaneous will of a whole people. It stands alone in the 
world's annals, a glorious example to future times ! 

La Fayette took an active part in the Three Days' Revolution 
of 1830. But the administration of Louis Philippe soon disgusting 
him, he retired again to private life, from which nothing could in- 
duce him subsequently to emerge. He died at his seat at Lagrange, 
in 1834. With characteristic modesty he shunned, even in death, 
the pomp of this world. He lies buried in a rural cemetery near 
Paris, sleeping between his heroic wife and daughter ! 





GENERAL GREENE'S ENTRANCE INTO CHARLESTON. 



NATHANAEL GREENE 




a cautious policy. 



ATHANAEL GREENE, a 

Major-General in the Ameri- 
ca;! army, was, after Wash 
ington, the ablest of the revo- 
lutioQary leaders. His mind, 
indeed, was strikingly similar 
to that of the Commander-in- 
chief. He possessed the same 
calm judgment, the same pa- 
tient investigation, the same 
energy, perseverance and ca- 
pacity of adapting himself to 
circumstances. He differed 
from Washington, however, 
in a nature less disciplined to 
annoyances. He had the 
boldness and originaHty of 
the Commander-in-chief; yet, 
Hke him, he long adhered to 
The same considerations, in fact, governed both 
LL 421 



422 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

in thus surrendering the native bent of their genius. They saw its 
necessity, and did not hesitate in abandoning present fame for future 
victor^^ When Washington, year after year, stood on the defensive, 
and when Greene made his memorable retreat through North Caro- 
hna, there were many, even among the wisest and purest patriots, 
who openly charged them with incapacity; but both these great 
Generals, conscious of the superior comprehensiveness of their views, 
persisted in the course they had laid down for themselves, and 
finally triumphed. It is now clear that any other system would 
have failed. But Greene, though equal to Washington in many 
respects, was still his inferior. He was at times rash, especially in 
his earlier career. The loss of Fort Washington is to be attributed 
to his too sanguine assurances. But as the war progressed, experi- 
ence went far toward correcting this error, for, in his southern cam- 
paigns, he rarely, or never ventured too much. His boldness was 
then tempered with prudence, and had become filed down until it 
formed his best quality. Nothing can exceed in daring, the resolu- 
tion he took to abandon Virginia to Cornwallis, yet it was based on 
the soundest rules, and eventually led both to the ruin of that Gene- 
ral, and the emancipation of the Carolinas. 

Greene had great self-confidence. He rarely called a council of 
officers, but revolved and decided his measures in the silent depths 
of his own mind. He governed his movements very much accord- 
ing to his estimate of his opponent's character. In his campaign 
against Cornwallis he evinced a profound insight into the foibles of 
that Commander, and availed himself of this knowledge v/ith consum- 
mate skill and effect. He omitted nothing which could assist to win 
success. Hence he was indefatigable in his labors, as well of body 
as of mind. In examining whatever subject came under his notice, 
lie first thoroughly mastered the details, and then formed his opinion 
When he assumed command of the southern army, he perused the 
whole correspondence of his predecessors, and, in every other way, 
strove to become acquainted with the condition, resources and char 
acter of the south. In consequence, the instant he was installed, his 
plans for the campaign were already formed. He was unfortunate 
in never gaining a decided victory, yet his defeats he so managed 
as to be more permanently injurious to his antagonist than to him- 
self. He soon inspired the enemy with the same dread of him 
which they entertained of Washington. Like that great commandei 
he never could be brought to battle until he was ready for it. Now 
retreating and now advancing; by times prudent and bold; fer- 
tile in expedients; profound in combinations — the triumph which 



KATHANAEL GREENE, 423 

eventually crowned his arms is to be attributed, as in the case of the 
General-in-chief, rather to his successful strategy than to any deci- 
sive victories he gained. He was fond of the excitement of battle. 
In moments of emergency, he exposed his person with the same 
recklessness as if* he had been a common soldier : thus, at Hobkirk's 
Hill, he thrice led up the Virginia regiment to within twenty paces 
of the enemy. He shared every privation with his troops, besides 
enduring an amount of personal labor almost incredible. Frequently 
he did not undress for weeks except to change his linen. From the 
day he set out to join the camp of Morgan, at the beginning of the 
retreat through North Carolina, to the hour when he saw his little 
army landed in safety on the northern shore of the Dan, he never 
took off his clothes to sleep. He was a rigid disciplinarian, yet 
beloved by his troops. When he joined the southern army he found 
the different corps, with but few exceptions, in a lamentable state of 
disorganization. He had to hang one man for insubordination, and, 
after that, all went well. Within a year, at the battle of Eutaw, his 
army proved itself, in discipline, equal to the best English veterans. 
He waged war in the south under disadvantages that would have 
crushed any other man but Washington. At first he had neither 
men, arms nor money : yet he managed to preserve the two first, 
and to fight without the last. No General better understood the 
moral effect any given movement would have on his own forces or 
those of his enemy ; and many of his actions are to be traced rather 
to the desire to inspirit the patriots than to produce an immediate 
effect on the foe. The battle of Guilford was of this description. 
Its result, even with defeat, was to dishearten the tories. His 
movement on the left of Corn wal lis, which led to the battle of the 
Cowpens, and which has been condemned by so many, was made 
with this design ; for, if he had not thrown Morgan in that direction, 
even at the risk of the latter being cut oft^, he could neither have 
victualled his troops, nor imparted that confidence which was so 
necessary to obtain recruits. He early saw the value of cavalry in 
a southern campaign. Of the niihtia he had no very high opinion, 
nor do they appear generally to have deserved it. The brigade of 
Marion was indeed of invaluable benefit, and the services of that 
General deservedly rank second only to those of Greene ; but the 
men of Marion were useful merely as light troops, and could not be 
depended on in battle, unless under the eye of their leader. Greene 
was rarely disheartened. After a repulse, instead of wasting time 
in useless regrets, he set himself at work to repair the disaster. . A 
blow might stagger him, but could not strike him to the earth, for, 



424 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

rallying immediately, he returned to the strife, and wore out his 
antagonist in the end by his superior powers of endurance. In 
short, he was the Washington of the south. 

Greene was born at Warwick, Rhode Island, on the 27th of May, 
1742. His family were Friends, in which denomination his father 
was a preacher ; and Greene himself continued a member of that 
sect until he was disowned in consequence of assuming arms. He 
early displayed a taste for study, especially for the mathematics ; and 
the seat was still pointed out, a few years since, in his father's forge, 
where he used to pore over Euclid while the iron was heating. He 
became acquainted with Dr Stiles, of Newport, and subsequently 
with Lindley Murray ; and the study of Watts' Logic and Locke on 
the Understanding was the result of those intimacies. Gradually he 
acquired a small library. Having few books he studied these 
thoroughly ; and to this, perhaps, is to be attributed the force and 
originality of his subsequent opinions. He enjoyed high animal 
spirits, however, and was more fond of fun and frolic than comported 
with the decorum of a Quaker. This exuberance continued with 
him through life, except in the gloomiest periods of the southern 
war ; and when peace was declared, at the age of forty, he used to 
amuse himself at Newport, by playing with his wife the old game 
of Puss in the Corner. His father, on Greene's approach to man- 
hood, took him into business, and soon the whole care of one of the 
mills and forges, those of Powtohomnet, fell under his charge. His em- 
inent abilities were not long without being discovered by his neigh- 
bors, who, in 1770, elected him to the General Assembly ; and he con 
tinned to be returned by them, year after year, until some time sub- 
sequent to his assuming command of the southern army. He took 
part with the colonists from the first, and, as if guided by a secret 
instinct to his future destiny, began to turn his attention to the study 
of military science. A company of volunteers being formed in 1774, 
at East Greenwich, called the Kentish Guards, and Greene having 
failed to obtain votes sufficient for a Lieutenancy, he patriotically 
enlisted as a private. Finding that there were no arms to equip his 
fellow soldiers, he secretly visited Boston, and not only procured a 
supply, but induced a deserter to return with him as drill master. 
When the news of the battle of Lexington reached Rhode Island, 
the drum of the Kentish Guards beat to arm,s, but the Royal Govr- 
ernor requiring them to return, none of the officers dared to disobey. 
Greene, however, pushed forward, with four others, whom he influ 
enced to follow his example. This conduct was remembered when 
the Assembly proceeded, shortly afterwards, to raise an army of 



NATHANAJEL GREENE. ,4;25 

sixteen hundred men ; and Greene, whose abihty was well known 
in that body, was at once raised over all competitors to the post of 
Major-General. He repaired immediately to Cambridge. When 
Congress placed the forces on the continental establishment, Greene 
was appointed a Brigadier, a descent in rank which he accepted 
without complaining, but which was destined not to be of long du- 
ration. 

Greene was one of the first to see the necessity of a Declaration 
of Independence, a measure which he recommended as early as the 
4th of June, 1775. The similarity of mind existing between him 
and Washington soon drew them into terms of comparative intimacy. 
Greene was of opinion, with the Commander-in-chief, that an attack 
should be made on Boston. When the army moved to New York, 
Greene was selected to command at Brooklyn, a proof of the high 
estimation in which he stood already with Washington and the 
army. He immediately began a careful study of the ground on 
which the expected battle was to be fought; but unfortunately, just 
as he had completed his preparations, he fell ill of a bilious fever, 
which brought him to the brink of the grave. It is possible, if he 
had continued well, that the struggle on Long Island might have 
terminated differently. During the battle, he lay on his pillow in 
New York, scarcely able to raise his head ; and as the sound of the 
cannon boomed on his ears he exclaimed, " Gracious God, to be 
confined at such a time V' When the news was brought him of the 
havoc made in Smallwood's heroic band, his favorite regiment, he 
burst into tears. On his recovery he was among the most active in 
the operations that succeeded. He had just been raised to the rank 
of Major-General, and strongly advised the abandonment and burn- 
ing of New York, but Congress had resolved that the city should be 
held to the last extremity, a fatal error ! When it became advisable 
to evacuate Fort Washington, Greene opposed it, declaring the gar- 
rison fully competent to defend the place ; and, perhaps, his conduct 
on this occasion, arising from excessive confidence, is the great 
blunder of his hfe. Had his wish been complied with, however, 
und the command entrusted to himself, the result might have been 
different, as he always contended. He was with Washington at 
Trenton, and besides the Commander-in-chief and Knox, was the 
only one for following up the blow by an attack on all the posts in 
New Jersey. From this hour he was secretly the first in Washing- 
ton's estimation. In the battle of Brandy wine he commanded the 
reserve. At Germantown he led the right wing. When the Conway 
:abal began its machinations, Greene was selected as one of its- first 

54 LL* 



426 THE HEROES OP THE RET'^OLUTION. 

victims, in consequence of the consideration in which he stood witli 
Washington ; and he continued, for years, to feel the evil effects of 
the prejudices excited against him then, both as an officer and a man. 

In 1778 he was appointed Quarter-Master-General. The army 
immediately felt the benefit of the reforms he had introduced into 
his department. Wiien he accepted the post, he reserved the right 
to command accordmg to his rank in the day of battle, and conse- 
quently, in the fierce struggle at Monmouth, he took a prominent 
part, first advising an attack, on the enemy, and afterwards leading 
the right wing. He next is seen at Newport, when, during the siege 
under Sullivan, he commanded one division of the army. Some 
difficulties having arisen between him and Congress, in reference to 
his duties as Quarter-Master-General, Greene sent in his resignation 
of that post, and came near throwing up his commission in the army. 
To n in ate the particulars of this dispute would extend this sketch 
too far. It is sufficient to say that Congress was unjust, and acting 
evidently under the influence of prejudice : while Greene, though 
perhaps justifiable in his resentment, did not emulate the calmness 
and forbearance of Washington under like treatment. On the 22nd 
of June, 1780, Greene was attacked at Springfield, New Jersey, 
while at the head of but thirteen hundred men, by two divisions of 
the royal army numbering twenty-five hundred each. By the skil- 
ful manner in which he not only escaped destruction, but managed 
to frustrate most of the enemy^s designs, in part saving the village 
from the flames, besides harassing the British retreat, he gained 
imiversal credit, both in our own army and that of Sir Henry Clin- 
ton. When the treason of Arnold was detected, and Washington 
scarcely knew, for a while, whom to trust, the post of West Point 
was assigned to Greene, as one of the few in whom the General 
could place perfect confidence. But scarcely had he entered on his 
duties when a letter from head-quarters summoned him to the com- 
mand of the southern army, recently made vacant by the removal 
of Gates. 

He stopped at Philadelphia on his way to his new post, and there 
learned, to use his own words, that the army he was called to lead, 
" was rather a shadow than a substance, having only an imaginary 
existence." Congress could give him neither arms nor clothing, aor 
could it hold out any definite hopes for the future. He could, with 
difficulty, procure sufficient money to defray his personal expenses. 
He visited the capitals of the various states lying in his route, and 
spent a few days at each in endeavoring to arouse the different 
Legislatures to the necessity of action His sagacious mind at once 



NATHANAEL GREENE. 427 

perceived the possibility of a retreat being necessary, and accordingly 
he chose Virginia as his depot for stores, in consequence of being 
further from the scene of war than North Carolina, and therefore 
safer. On the 2nd of December, 1780, he reached the camp at Char- 
lotte, and having courteously met and parted with Gates, set himself 
at once to the task before him. We cannot follow him through all 
the events of the next three years. We shall select two portions of 
his career only, as illustrative of the whole, the retreat through 
North Carolina, and the battle of Eutaw. The first at once raised 
him to the rank of a master in strategy, and has been so ably de- 
picted by the grandson of the hero, that, in describing it, we can 
scarcely hope to improve on that account. The retreat began 
immediately after the battle of the Cowpens. Greene's first movement 
had been that of a giant in military science. In order to gain the 
initiative, or at least obtain some control over the measures of the ene- 
my, as well as better to supply his army and raise the drooping spirits 
of the country, he divided his little force, sending Morgan, with six 
hundred men, across the Catawba, while he took post himself in a 
camp judiciously selected by Kosciusko at the junction of Hick's 
Creek with the Great Pedee. Cornwallis was puzzled by this bold 
movement, and for some time hesitated what to do. At last hi 
resolved to eflfect a junction with Leslie, and afterwards to direct the 
whole force of the army against Morgan, whom Tarleton meantime 
was to follow up, while Cornwallis held himself ready to cut off" his 
retreat. Tarleton began his pursuit on the 12th of January, 1781, 
and on the 17th came up with Morgan, who had resolved to await 
him in, hopes of a victory, which might throw an eclat around the 
American arms, and conceal, in part, the disgrace of a retreat. The 
battle, known as that of the Cowpens, succeeded, in which Tarleton 
met with a signal defeat. 

The conflict was scarcely over before Morgan took measures for 
f^ontinuing his retreat ; for he well knew that delay would bring 
Cornwallis, hot for revenge, upon him. Crossing the Broad River 
the same evening with Kis prisoners, he pushed onward to the fords 
of the Catawba. Meantime, the news of the defeat reached Corn- 
wallis in his camp at Winnsboro. Chagrined, but not disheartened, 
he resolved on pursuing the victorious Morgan, who was but twenty- 
five miles distant, and whose retreat he yet hoped to cut off. Having 
been joined on the morning of the 18th by Leslie's detachment, he de- 
voted the rest of the day to collecting the fugitives of Tarleton ; and 
early on the morrow put his troops in motion, by a road which inter- 
sected the line of Morgan's retreat, and strained every nerve to over- 



428 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

take them in season. But it was in vam. On the 22nd the American 

General reached the Catawba, and transported his army in safety to the 
opposite shore, so that when, soon after, Cornwallis came up, he had 
the mortification to see that his enemy had eluded his grasp. The 
consequences of the measures into which the strategy of Greene had 
hurried him, now rose in all their force before the British General's 
mind. He saw the fruits of Camden already slipping from his hold. 
The inhabitants, after the success of the Cowpens, hesitated to 
declare for him. He beheld himself, a second time, cut off from his 
march on North Carolina. One resource only was left him. By a 
rapid pursuit, he might hope yet to crush Morgan before the latter 
could join the main army ; and then, if with one vigorous push, he 
could overtake Greene, the American cause would be ruined. To 
the execution of this bold scheme, Cornwallis accordingly now de- 
voted ail the energies of his rapid mind. It was first necessary, 
however, to convert his army into light troops, and to do this, he 
resolved on the hazardous expedient of destroying the baggage. 
The example was set by himself. The baggage of head-quarters was 
first given to the flames. That of the soldiers promptly followed. 
Only a small supply of clothing, and a few wagons for hospital stores 
and for the sick were preserved. Two days were devoted to this 
task. On the third, stripped for the race, the British army renewed 
the pursuit. 

But Greene, meanwhile, had not been idle. His inferior force did 
not allow him as yet to entertain the thought of giving battle ; but 
he was incessantly occupied in strengthening it, with thfe hope of 
soon being adequate to the trial. At the same time, however, he 
prepared, with far seeing sagacity, for a protracted retreat, in case 
it should prove necessary. He ordered all provisions to be brought 
to camp that did not lie along the contemplated route ; the stores at 
Salisbury and Hillsboro were held in readiness to miove, at a mo-, 
ment's warning, on the upper counties of Virginia ; and, to provide 
for the most remote contingencies, the Quarter-Master-General was 
directed to form a magazine on the Roanoke, and hold his boats in 
readiness on the Dan. The prisoners taken by Morgan, who had 
been sent on in advance, the instant that General crossed the 
Catawba, were despatched to Virginia with General Stevens, under 
the escort of a number of the troops whose terms of enlistment had 
expired. Having completed these arrangements, Greene left the 
main army to pursue its march to Salisbury, and throwing himself 
on horseback, started to join Morgan, in order to lend the influence 
of his garrison to extricate that officer. His way lay across the 



NATHANAEL GREENE 429 

country for a hundred and fifty miles, yet he could only allow him- 
self, for protection, a single aid and a Serjeant's guard of dragoons. 
He reached the camp of Morgan on the 30th of January. On heing 
told that Cornwallis had destroyed his baggage, the prophetic mind 
of Greene saw, through the long vista of events to come, the conse- 
quences of the act. " He is ours," he cried exultingly. And a day 
or two after, having determined on his memorable retreat, he wrote, 
" I am not without hopes of ruining Lord Cornwallis, if he pej'sista 
in his mad scheme of pushing through the country.'^ 

To understand the series of movements that followed, it is neces- 
sary to look at the map. Three rivers rise in the upper parts of the 
Carolinas, and flow in a south-easterly direction towards the Atlantic. 
The first is the Catawba ; the second the Ya^lkin ; and the last and 
most northern the Dan. . This latter river at first follows the same 
course with the others, but finally, changing its direction, winds 
backwards and forwards over the Virginia line. To retreat from 
the Catawba north, the route of Greene would cut each of these 
rivers in succession. To place a deep river between a pursuing 
army and the pursued, is to give the latter a breathing spell ; while 
for the pursuing to overtake a retreating army between two rivers, is 
almost certain ruin for the latter. Accordingly the efforts of Corn- 
wallis were directed to entrap his adversary in this situation. It 
had been apparent to Greene from the first that his enemy intended 
crossing the Catawba as soon as the heavy rains, which had swollen 
the river, should subside sufficiently to allow a passage. On the 
31st it became evident that the waters were falling. Morgan was 
accordingly ordered to push on with the regulars for the Yadkin, 
while at the same time an express was despatched to the main army, 
directing it to rendezvous at Guilford instead of Salisbury. Morgan 
would have sought the refuge of the mountains, and openly declared 
lie would not answer for the consequences unless this was done. 
"Neither shall you," replied Greene, who never shrunk from 
responsibility, " for I will take the measure upon myself" Having 
thus sent forward the regular troops, Greene left a body of militia 
to harass the enemy in crossing the Catawba. They we^ about 
five hundred in number, chiefly drawn from the neighboring dis- 
tricts, and were under the command of General Davidson, in whom 
they placed unbounded confidence. Greene himself retired to a 
place selected for the rendezvous, sixteen miles in advance on the 
road to Salisbury. Day was just breaking, on the morning of the 
1st of February, when the British column advanced to the ford. 
The rain fell in torrents ; the prospect was dark and lowering ; and 



430 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

the waters whirling and foaming by, flashed back the fitful glare of 
the American watch-fires on the opposite bank. It was a scene tc 
appal an ordinary enemy ; but the soldiers of Cornwallis, without a 
pause, plunged into the roaring torrent. The waters soon rose to 
their waists. Frequently the men were swept from their foot- 
holds. General O'Hara was carried down the stream and came near 
losing his life. But the cavalry struggled manfully on ; while the 
grenadiers, leaning on each other, presented an adamantine wall to 
the rushing waters. When half way across, the muskets of the 
Americans blazed through the gloom, and the battle began. Nothing 
intimidated, the gallant veterans of Cornwallis pressed on, and 
though numbers continually dropped from the ranks, the rest 
steadily persevered, aii^ gaining the bank, after a sharp conflict, 
dispersed the handful of militia. General Davidson, in mount- 
ing his horse to direct a retreat, was shot dead, on which his 
men fled in every direction, most of them taking to the woods. 
Cornwallis himself had a narrow escape. His horse was wound- 
ed while yet in the water, and though the noble animal strug- 
gled to the shore, he fell the moment he reached it. Tarleton pur- 
suing the advantage, overtook some of the fugitives about ten miles 
from the ford. The militia, trained to fire from their horses, received 
him with a volley, and dashed into the woods. A pursuit was use- 
less, and the British Colonel was forced to return with a loss of seven 
men and twenty horses. 

Meanwhile Greene remained at the rendezvous, ignorant of the 
result of the skirmish, and tormented with anxiety. The rain still 
fell in torrents and he was drenched to the skin. At last, about 
midnight, a messenger arrived with the news of the defeat. Turning 
his horse's head to SaUsbury, he alighted at that place towards morn- 
ing completely worn out. His friend. Dr. Read, had been waiting his 
arrival, and observing the expression of his face, anxiously inquired 
how he was. " Fatigued, hungry, alone and penniless," was the almost 
despondent reply of Greene. The last word struck the ear of his 
landlady, and when he had sat down to breakfast, she entered the 
room, and cautiously fastening the door, drew from under her apron 
two small bags of specie. "Take these," said she, "for you will 
want them and I can do without them." This simple oftering 
touched the heart of the defeated commander. He took the money, 
for he was truly without a penny; and the gift proved afterwards 
of the greatest value in procuring intelligence. What more beautiful 
than this touching incident of a woman's patriotism ? 

The army of Morgan had meantime gained a day on that oi 



NATHANAEL GREENE. 



431 




THE LANDLADY OFFERING HER MONEY TO GENERAL GREENE. 



Cornwailis. But the latter General, mounting a part of his infantry 
on the horses left by the destruction of the baggage, hastened to send 
them forward, with the cavalry, in order to overtake the enemy. 
Greene, however, had now joined the little army, and, under the 
eye of their leader, the men pressed on, regardless of the toil. It 
was the height of the southern winter. The rain fell incessantly. 
The roads were of clay, deep and miry. But the same torrents 
which retarded the troops would also swell the Yadkin ; and could 
the fugitives only place it between them and their foes, they might 
repose again in safety. Sustained by this hope, they struggled 
forward, until, on the third day, they gained the banks of the river. 
The boats provided by the foresight of Greefie, in contemplation of 
this emergency, were fortunately in readiness, and, in a short time, 
the main body of the army was transported to the other shore. 
Midnight arrived before the rear guard had crossed, when suddenly 
the advanced column of the enemy came up. Though almost broken 
down by toil, the Americans sprang at once to their arms, and a 
sharp skirmish ensued. O'Hara tried in vain to seize some of the 
boats. The rear guard succeeded in crossing, and, in a few minutes, 
the British General beheld his enemy quietly encamped on the op- 
posite bank, while the river, swollen so as to be no longer fordable, 
roared in wild volume at his feet. Mortified at seeing the foe thns 



432 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

slip from his very grasp, he opened a furious cannonade, but to Uttle 
purpose, the camp of the Americans being sheltered behind a low 
ridge. Not far from the river, half concealed by a pile of rocks, 
stood a solitary cabin, in which Greene sat down to write his de- 
spatches, stealing for the purpose the hours allotted to sleep. Sus- 
pecting its inhabitant, the British directed the fire of their batteries 
on this spot. The shot soon bounded on the neighboring rocks, and 
shivered into splinters the pine saplings around. Still Greene wrote 
on. As the aim of the artillerists improved, the balls were heard 
whisthng over the hut. Still he wrote on. At last a shot struck 
the roof, knocking the clapboards in every direction. Una wed, the 
General wrote on, and continued to do so through the night, though 
the roar and blaze of the artillery went on without cessation. 

Greene remained but a day upon the banks of the Yadkin, when, 
having recruited his troops, he advanced to the forks of Abbott's 
Creek, a secure position, where he passed four days. He was 
extremely eager to give Cornwallis battle, and made this halt in 
order, if possible, to induce the mihtia to join him. But he was 
doomed to disappointment. His accessions of force were inconside- 
rable, and on the 9th, when the main body joined the division of 
Morgan, at Guilford, the returns showed only a force of twenty-six 
hundred men, fit for duty. Cornwallis, it was well known, had 
nearly three thousand, superior in discipline, accoutrements, and, 
more than all, in the prestige of success. To hazard a battle, with 
such a disparity, would have ensured defeat; and defeat would have 
been followed by the loss of both North Carohna and Virginia. It 
became necessary, therefore, to continue the retreat. Meantime 
Cornwallis, growing more eager than ever to crush his enemy, had 
passed up the Yadkin until he found a ford where he could cross. 
Having been foiled in preventing the junction of the tAVo divisions 
of the American army, he was now intent on bringing it to battle 
before it could reach ihe shelter of the Dan. Twice had Greene 
eluded him when at the very moment of victory. He was resolved 
that, this third time, there should be no escape. The Dan was only 
fordable high up, and Cornwallis being nearer to those fords than 
his enemy, supposed that no course was left for Greene but to meet 
his pursuers or fly to the lower ferries, where there were no means 
of transportation. The British General had satisfied himself from 
the manoeuvres of his antagonist, that the latter intended to retreat 
on a ferry called Dix's, and accordingly he had taken a position 
on Greene's left, which brought him as near to that place as the 
American General. 



NATHANAEL GREENE. 433 

The sagacity of the latter instantly penetrated this design, which 
he saw with secret exultation, favored his own plan. He would 
have gained nothing by placing a fordable river between himself 
and his foe, for he was deficient in artillery, so necessary to defend 
the passage of such a stream. It had never been his intention, 
therefore, to retire on the upper ferries of the Dan. On the contrary 
he had, long before, prepared boats at the lower ferries, for the 
possible contingency of a retreat in that direction. He chose this 
route, moreover, because it would bring him nearer the base of his 
operations. The magazines he had collected at Roanoke were in 
this quarter, and here also was he to look for the reinforcements 
from Virginia. But it was all important for the safety and ease of 
his troops that CornwalUs should not suspect his true design, and 
consequently the American General hastened to take such mea- 
sures as would effectually maintain his enemy's delusion. The 
distance from Guilford to Boyd's Ferry, where his boats were col- 
lected, was about seventy miles, considerably less than the distance 
of CornwalUs from the same place. To deceive the enemy as to his 
course and thus still further to increase the distance between the two 
armies. Greene formed a covering detachment of seven hundred 
jpicked nien, partly composed of the conquerors at the Cowpens, 
partly of militia riflemen, and the remaining part of Washington's 
cavalry and Lee's celebrated legion. The whole was placed under 
the command of Col. Otho Williams. With this chosen band Wil- 
liams was ordered to throw himself between the two armies and taking 
the road towards the upper ferries, hang back so close on the foe as to 
conceal the movements of the main body of the Americans. When 
Greene should have safely crossed the Dan, Williams was to unmask, 
and make a forced march on Boyd's Ferry. 

The whole nation was, meantime, watching the struggle. Nearly 
a month- had passed since the desperate trial of skill began. The 
news of the victory at the Cowpens had first arrested the public at- 
tention to the proceedings of Greene, and turned every eye in the 
direction of the Carolinas. Then had followed the pursuit of Corn- 
wallis, the bloody passage of the Catawba, and the continued retreat 
of the Americans. Greene's masterly manoeuvres had taken the 
country by surprise ! The existence of such genius in him had not been 
imagined, and all awaited with breathless interest the conclusion of 
the drama. The struggle was now drawing to a close. On the 10th 
of February the two armies were only twenty-five miles apart. 
There lay but one river more between CornwalUs and Virginia, and 
the slightest blunder on the part of Greene would crush the Ame- 

55 MM 



434 r^.^ iiSROES OF THE REVoLTrTION". 

ricans forever. The fate of the south trembled in the balance. At 
last Greene put his main army into motion for Boyd's Ferry, anti 
Williams, as directed, threw himself on the van of the British Gene* 
ral, and took the route for Dix's. As the army of Greene stretched 
away on its march, the devoted band left behind gazed with strangely 
mingled feelings, for few ever expected to behold it again. On 
fled the fugitives, scarcely allowing time for food or rest, — on 
through storm and sunshine, — on through ice and thaw, — on, 
from early dawn till long after dark. The roads were drenched 
with rain one day, and frozen stiff the next, and for miles the 
track of the fugitives was marked with blood from their lacera- 
ted feet. There was but one blanket among four men. Such was 
the haste with which they marched that they were compelled to dry 
their wet clothes by the heat of their bodies. At every step of their 
progress they feared lest Cornwallis should discover the truth, and 
thundering fast in pursuit, overtake them yet before they reached the 
Dan. Greene himself was such a prey to anxiety and watching that he 
did not sleep four hours during the whole period occupied in reaching 
the Dan. At last, on the evening of the fourth day, the army gain- 
ed the welcome river, and by the ensuing morning all the troops had 
crossed. The American General, now despatching a courier to an- 
nounce his safety to Williams, remained on the southern shore, in 
deep anxiety, awaiting his arrival. 

When the main body of the Americans had moved in the direc- 
tion of the lower ferries, Williams, as we have seen, by pressing close 
on the enemy's van had effectually concealed that movement. When 
he reached the road where Greene had turned off, he had kept the 
one leading to Dix's ; and, with secret joy, he beheld the success of 
his stratagem, as Cornwallis, neglecting the other route, pressed close 
after him. The legion of Lee, being admirably mounted, was left in 
the rear. Numerous detachments were sent out in every direction 
to observe the enem)^ and give the earliest intelligence of an opening 
for attack. Every night the camp was pitched at a considerable dis- 
tance from the foe. So manifold were the duties each soldier had to 
perform, that but six hours out of forty-eight were allowed for sleep. 
The troops were always in motion before day-break. By forcing a 
march, a breakfast and halt of an hour in the forewoon, was secured; 
and this was the only meal eaten during the day : for at night, when 
the camp was made, the men were so exhausted that sleep triumph- 
ed over hunger, and those off duty, flinging themselves on the ground, 
were immediately lost in slumber. More than once the rear-guard 
of Williams and the advance of Cornwallis approached within mus- 



NATHANAEL GREENE. 4 35 

kef shot, and it was with extreme difficulty that the respective com- 
manders could restrain their troops from engaging. But the British 
General wished to reserve himself for the last struggle, which he was 
confident was close at hand ; and Williams was unwilling to strike 
until he could give some terrible blow. Thus four days paseed. At 
last WiUiams, thinking that sufficient time had elapsed for Greene to 
reach and cross the Dan, cautiously drew off his men in the direction 
of the lower ferries. On the same day Cornwallis learned, for the 
first time, the trick played upon him, and hastily crossing into the 
proper road, found himself, on a sudden, once more in the rear of the 
light troops. 

And now ensued a closing struggle, the parallel to which is scarcely 
to be found in history. On the one side Cornwallis, chafed by his in- 
cessant repulses, resolved to revenge himself and exterminate the little 
band before him ; on the other hand Williams, knowing that the 
race was for life or death, strained every muscle to effect his escape. 
The night came, chill and damp ; the roads were broken and deep • 
and the men, worn down by a month's marching, staggered feebly 
on. In vain they hoped that Cornwallis would halt ; still onward 
he stretched through that gloomy night. The darkness increased ; 
the rain began to fall ; and the way grew more difficult ; yet still the 
sullen tramp of the enemy was heard in pursuit, and still the Ameri- 
cans toiled on. At last the gleam of watch-fires was seen in the dis- 
tance ahead, and at the sight, Williams, fearing that Greene had not 
escaped, resolved to offer himself up, with his heroic corps, to save 
the main army ; but happily it was discovered in time that what he 
saw was only the embers of the camp, and that the Americans were 
far in the advance, sweeping onward through the gloom and rain. Fi- 
nally the British halted, and then WiUiams gave his men a few 
hours respite. But at midnight the troops were roused and the re- 
treat recommenced. Nor was it long before Cornwallis was also in 
motion. He still hoped to find Greene cooped up between him and 
the Dan, for want of boats to cross. But he knew that everything 
depended on speed. Forty miles only lay between him and the river, 
and this distance he was resolved to traverse, if possible, before he 
allowed his troops repose. Williams was equally aware of the value 
of the next twenty-four hours. Mile vanished after mile, hour suc- 
ceeded hour, and as the goal drew nearer, the struggle became more 
close and fierce. The usual time was scarcely allowed for refresh- 
ment, and then the Americans resumed their hurried march. The 
strife now grew thriUingly interesting. All through the hours of that 
long, dark night ; all through the early portion of that wintry morn- 



43f8 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

ing ; over roads at first slippery and frozen, but now thawed and 
yielding, the one army had fled, and the other pursued ; and as the 
Americans hastily swallowed their frugal breakfast, they fancied they 
heard again the tread of the foe, and resuming their ranks, taxed 
their sinews again in a last desperate strain to reach the goal. 

Noon at last arrived, and with it an express announcing the safety 
of Greene. The joyful intelligence passed along the line, and the 
soldiers, re-invigorated, pushed forward with renewed alacrity. The 
infantry of Williams went first, then followed the legion of Lee. By 
three o'clock the river was only fourteen miles distant. The infan- 
try now turned ofl" by the shortest route, and hastening to the ferry, 
were borne in safety across. Cornwallis, finding himself approach- 
ing the Dan, and seeing no signs of Greene, began to suspect the 
truth, and redoubled his exertions to overtake the rear-guard, vow- 
ing angrily to sacrifice it to his vengeance. But Lee, no longer 
caring to watch the foe, bent every efl"ort only to gain the ferry. The 
boats which carried Williams across had scarcely returned when the 
legionaries stood on the bank. The men instantly leaped in and took 
their seats; the horses were led by the bridles and made to swim; and 
the last of the fugitives finally left the shore. The night,by this time, 
was beginning to fall ; the river surged dark beneath ; and only a 
few stars glimmered through the stormy rack of heaven. All was 
desolate and forbidding in the landscape — yet not all, for on the fur- 
ther bank of the Dan gleamed welcome watch fires, and there stood 
Greene and Williams waiting to receive their companions in arms! 
When the boats touched the bank, and the legions had safely landed, 
a shout went up from the assembled host that shook the forests around 
and echoed far down the sky. As Lee stepped on shore he rushed 
into the arms of Williams ; then looking back across the turbid wa- 
ters, he saw the shadowy forms of his pursuers just emerging on the 
other bank. But he had escaped, and the Carolinas were free f 

Greene did not, however, remain long in Virginia. Having re- 
ceived a reinforcement, he crossed the Dan again, within a few days, 
and began that series of masterly manoeuvres which led to the bat- 
tle of Guilford Court-House. After this sanguinary struggle, Corn- 
wallis determined to invade Virginia ; for he already found himself 
in a dilemma in consequence of having been led so far away from 
his base. Greene immediately conceived the bold plan of returning 
into the Carolinas. He accordingly retraced the route over which he 
nad so lately retreated. At the news of his approach, consternation 
seized the tones and even the royal troops. Lord Rawdon, as the 



NATHANAEL GREENE. 437 

last hope, resolved to attack him, and the battle of Hobkirk's 
Hill ensued, in which Greene met a repulse. But the check did not 
amount to a positive defeat, and in a few days, the American army 
being again ready for combat, Rawdon considered it advisable to 
abandon the vicinity of Camden and retire towards Charleston. The 
operations against Ninety-Six followed. Having spent the hottest of 
the summer months in the salubrious heights of Santee, Greene ad- 
vanced, in the beginning of September, to the lower country, resolv- 
ing to employ his forces in expelling the British from the few towns 
they still occupied in South Carolina. As the Americans advanced, 
the royalists retired. At Eutaw Springs the enemy halted and en- 
trenched themselves. Greene followed them up, and on the 8th of 
September, 1781, attacked them. The battle was, perhaps, the 
fiercest of the whole war : one-third of the American army being left 
upon the field ; while the royal troops suffered even more. 

The British, on this bloody day, were commanded by General 
Stewart. They numbered in all two thousand three hundred men, 
a force rather superior to that of the Americans. They were drawn 
up with great skill in a highly advantageous position. Greene set 
his army in motion for the attack about an hour after daybreak. 
The sky was cloudless, and the road lying through an open wood, 
where the dew had scarcely yet dried on the blades of grass, the 
troops were invigorated, rather than fatigued by their march of a few 
hours. When about four miles from Eutaw, the advance of the 
Americans came into collision with a detachment of the British, sent 
out to reconnoitre. The enemy broke and fled. The Americans, 
with Lee in the front, followed up their victory, and arriving at the 
little river at Eutaw, beheld the main body of the enemy drawn up 
in a single line within the border of a wood, the right resting on the 
Charleston road, but the left wholly unprotected. The American 
miUtia, led by Marion and Pickens, moved in the advance, with the 
artillery of Gaines. The fight immediately became furious. The 
militia, behaving with the intrepidity of veterans, stood unmoved 
before the British fire, while unremitting streams of musketry poured 
from flank to flank along the American line. The enemy, aston- 
ished to find raw troops so stubborn, increased his efforts to break 
their line. His artillery soon dismounted the two pieces of Gaines, 
though not until the American battery had dismounted one oi 
the guns of the enemy. At last, after they had delivered seventeen 
rounds a man, the militia in the centre began to retire. Green<* 
promptly hurried up the corps of Sumter to fill the chasm. Tho 



438 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

battle was now renewed with more obstinacy than ever. The 
British General, trembling for the fate of the day, brought up his 
reserves at this crisis, and the next half hour witnessed the most 
superliuman exertions on his part and that of his troops to achieve 
a victory. At last, after a desperate struggle, the centre of the 
Americans again gave way ; and the British, seeing this, pressed 
forward with loud shouts, and with such ardor that their line became 
disordered. This was the critical moment for which Greene had 
waited. Bringing up the tried battalions of Williams and Howard, 
which he had reserved for the crisis, he ordered them to advance with 
trailed arms, and, retaining their fire, sweep the field with the bayonet. 

It would have warmed the coldest bosom to have witnessed that 
gallant charge, and the equally gallant manner in which, for a while, 
the enemy withstood it. Howard came splendidly to the encounter ! 
For a few moments while he advanced the air rung with huzzas from the 
contending armies. Showers of bullets from the enemy rapidly thinned 
\he ranks of the brave Marylanders ; but still they pressed on, not a 
man pulling a trigger until they were within a few paces of the 
hostile line. At sight of that unshaken front the British regiments 
began to give way, the panic beginning at the left and extending to 
the centre. But here a crack corps, the Blufi's, was posted, which, 
instead of shrinking from the bayonet, came resolutely to the charge. 
With loud shouts the two parties met in full career. Some fell at 
once pierced to the heart. Others, losing their footing, tumbled 
headlong and were instantly trodden down. The bayonets of both 
sides speedily becoming interlocked, the combatants swayed to and 
fro, like a mass of foliage tossed by contending winds. At last the 
British line broke. Seeing this, Howard sprang to the front and 
ordered his brave Marylanders to pour in their fire, on Avhich the 
enemy fled in confusion, the Americans sweeping in a solid mass 
after them, like a wave of glittering steel. So utter was the rout 
that many of the royal soldiers did not pause in their flight until they 
reached Charleston, where such tales of the prowess and numbers of 
the Americans were told, that every able bodied man was impressed 
to defend the capital in this its last extremity. 

But, during the pursuit, the Americans had reached the camp 
of the enemy, where the tents were still standing and the stores 
lying invitingly in view. Most of the militia hastened to avail 
themselves- of the unusual luxuries. But the legion of Lee still 
pressed on, in hot chase of a detachment which was straining to 
gain a brick house, defended in the rear by a garden with palisades, 



NATHANAEL GJREENE. 439 

and on the right by a ravine and thicket, rendered impassable by 
low, craggy shrubs. The enemy reached the entrance first, and 
rushed in ; yet so close was Lee upon him, that one of his men got 
half way within the door, and for a moment there was a sharp 
struggle, his companions endeavoring to push him in, and the British 
to thrust him out. At last the enemy prevailed, though several of 
his own men and officers were excluded. A heavy fire was in 
stantly opened from the upper windows, on which the assailants, 
holding their prisoners before them, retreated. Meantime the Bri- 
tish left, which had been posted in a thicket, under Major Majori- 
hanks, had, until this period, resisted every effort to dislodge it. The 
troop of Washington, which had been led up to charge it, was 
completely shattered, Avith the loss of every officer but two, Wash- 
ington himself having his horse shot under him, and being made a 
prisoner. But now, the rest of the line having retreated, Majori- 
banks became exposed on the flank, and fell back slowly towards 
the house, still clinging to the cover of the woods and ravine. 

Here, resting on the picketed garden, he took a new position. On 
the right, the British cavalry under Coffin had drawn up in an open 
field to the west of the Charleston road. Thus supported on both 
flanks, and protected by the fire from the house, Stewart rallied hif 
broken regiments and stubbornly prepared to contest the day anew 
Greene, hastening to complete his victory, had brought up his artil 
lery to batter the house, but the pieces proved too light to make any 
impression on the walls; while the rattling volleys that blazed 
imceasingly from the windows soon smote down every man at the 
gims. ,At this instant, and while some of the militia were still in 
the tents. Coffin charged v/ithhis cavalry, while Majoribankson the 
other flank advanced with his brave veterans. In vain the Ameri- 
can horse dashed forward to repulse the assailants ; though successful 
for a while, the tremendous fire of Majoribanks checked them at 
last ; and then, perceiving his advantage, the enemy sprang forward, 
seized the artillery, and driving wildly on, swept up and regained 
his camp. This being done, and the last scattered Americans chased 
from the tents or made prisoners, the British formed their line and 
prepared to renew the battle. 

But Greene, appalled by the slaughter that had already taken 
place, and satisfied that his enemy had received a blow that would 
force him to retreat, wisely dechned renewing the strife. He had 
attacked Stewart, because the latter had intended to establish a post 
at Eutaw, and now that this purpose would be abandoned, there 



440 THE HEROES .OP THE REVOLUTION. 

was no longer any object to be gained by protracting the battle, of 
sufficient importance to compensate for the loss of life. The wisdom 
of Greene was shown in this decision. Many a General, excited 
l)y the struggle, or smarting under the imputation of having received 
a. check, would have returned to the contest and uselessly sacrificed 
hundreds of lives. But Greene never lost his self-possession on the 
field of battle, never allowed his judgment to be aifected by its 
excitement. He saw that he had gained his purpose, and he 
decided to retreat. He fell back, however, no farther than to the 
spot from which he had started in the morning. And he woula 
probably not have done this, but retained his position on the field, 
but for the impossibility of its furnishing sufficient water .for his 
thirsty and fainting men. 

The loss of Greene, in this battle, was five hundred and fifty-five, 
rank and file, or nearly one-third of his whole army. Of this num- 
ber one hundred and thirty had been killed on the field, including 
seventeen commissioned officers. The British suffered not less 
severely. It was a sad task, on that day, for the American com- 
mander to visit his wounded. When he entered the miserable hovel 
where the officers of Washington's mutilated corps lay, and be- 
held those gallant young men, some of whom were destined never 
to rise from their beds, his feelings gave way, and he exclaimed in 
a choking voice, " It was a trying duty imposed on you, but it was 
unavoidable : I could not help it !" Those brave men, however^ 
lived to hear that their blood had not been shed in vain ; for, on that 
very night, Stewart, destroying his stores and abandoning about 
seventy of his wounded, hurriedly retreated to Charleston. For this 
victory, as it has always been regarded. Congress voted Greene a. 
conquered standard and a medal of gold. 

During this battle an incident occurred, so poetical in its character, 
that but for the most unimpeachable testimony in favor of its truth, 
we should hesitate to be the first to place it in print. After the 
repulse of the British, one of Lee's legion galloped to the enemy's 
camp, intending to set it on fire, and by a spectacle so disherA'tening 
to the foe, complete his rout. Ahghting and snatching up a brand, 
he diew aside the canvass of a tent, in order to apply the fire to the 
straw within. But a sight there met his eyes which made him 
draw back irresolute. A wounded soldier lay on the rude pallet, 
and by his side sat a woman, wringing her hands and weeping bit- 
terly as she gazed down on the face of the dying man. She looked 
Dp an instant at the intruder, with a glance of mute entreaty, while 



NATflANAEL (iREENE. 441 

the tears rolled down her cheeks. The American hesitated. If I 
set fire to the camp, he thought, this poor woman must see her hus- 
band consume before her eyes : and others, perhaps, will perish as 
miserably. I may reduce the enemy to as great straits as ourselves, 
but will that assist in terminating the war ? At this consideration 
he dropped the canvass, flung down his brand, and left the camp. 
The hero of this little incident still lives, almost the sohtary survivor 
of that bloody day. From his lips we have heard that, after the bat- 
tle was over, the British and American soldiers were frequently 
found lying side by side, transfixed with each others bayonets. 
Where the American artillery had been posted, there now remain- 
ed only the dismembered cannon. An oak sapling, about eight 
inches in diameter, stood close by this battery ; and the trunk of this 
tree showed, within ten feet from the ground, twenty-eight marks of 
balls-. 

In the beginning of the year 1782, the House of Representatives 
of South CaroUna bestowed on Greene the sum of ten thousand gui- 
neas, " in consideration of his important services." He was now, 
indeed, universally regarded as the saviour of the south. He had 
broken up all the enemy's posts in the interior, and confined him to 
a small circle in the vicinity of Charleston. The. people, so lately 
despondent, were now full of hope. The tories were overawed. 
The royal troops themselves were giving way to despair. All par- 
ties saw that the evacuation of the southern capital must speedily 
occur, unless Great Britain was disposed to begin again the attempt 
at conquest, now foiled after eight years of war. At last, on the 
14th of December, Charleston was evacuated. Greene entered the 
town amid the acclamations of the inhabitants. Governor Rutledge 
riding at his side, and a brilliant cortage of officers and guards ac- 
companying him. Every door, balcony and window was crowded. 
Tearsof joy were shed freely, and the cry, "God bless you ! — wel- 
come home, gentlemen," broke from many a surcharged heart. 

Greene did not long survive the war. His last days, too, were em- 
bittered by financial difficulties, arising out of some bills he had be- 
come liable for, in order to purchase stores at a critical period in his 
last campaign. But his country was not ungrateful. South Carolina, 
as we have seen, had voted him ten thousand guineas, and Georgia 
presented him with a handsome estate. He removed his family 
from Rhode Island to Charleston, in 1785, intending there to spend 
the remainder of his days ; but these were destined to be of short 
duration. On Tuesday, the. 13th of June, 1786, while on a visit to 



442 



THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 



a neighbor, he walked out to see a rice crop, the sun, at the time, 
oeing intensely hot. A headache was the consequence, followed by 
a violent fever and inflammation of the brain ; and by Monday, the 
1 5th, he was a corpse. His death was considered a public misfor- 
tune, and the inhabitants of Savannah, where he was interred, joined 
unanimously in paying the last tribute to his remains. Thus, at the 
age of forty-four, perished the second General of the Revolution ! 





OTHO H. WILLIAMS. 




ONSPICUOUS among 
the heroes of the Revo- 
kition was Otho Hol- 
land Williams, a Briga- 
dier-General in the 
continental line. He 
was born in Prince 
George county, Md., in 
the year 1748. His 
abilities were of a high 
I order. He was saga- 
^^ cious in counsel, syste- 
^' matic in camp and in 
battle brave as a lion, 
yet perfectly self-pos- 
sessed. Few men were purer in their patriotism. He served his coun- 
try, not for emolument or rank, but from a consciousness of duty 
alone. In morals he was rigid, like his great chief, evincing his dis- 
like of wrong even with asperit)/-. He scorned hypocrisy and the low 
arts of intrigue, nor would he ever depreciate others in order to ex- 
alt himself. 

Williams was at the head of the clerk's office of the county of 

443 



444 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

Baltimore, when the war of independence began, but he immediate- 
ly abandoned his emoluments, and accepting a Lieutenant's commis- 
sion in a rifle corps, marched to join the army at Boston. In 1776 
a rifle regiment was formed, of which he was appointed Major. He 
was present in Fort Washington when the assault of that place oc- 
curred ; and it was his regiment which so gallantly met the Hessian 
column, and had nearly repulsed it. But Fort Washington fell, and 
Williams became a prisoner. He was now subjected to all those 
horrors which the captives, at that early period sufl'ered, and which 
have made the name of Sir William Howe execrable wherever hu- 
manity has advocates. The seeds of the fatal disease, which subse- 
quently carried ofl" Williams, were sown during this imprisonment. 
At last, after the surrender of Burgoyne, he was exchanged for Ma- 
jor Ackland ; and, rejoining the army, found he had risen in due 
course of promotion to the rank of a Colonel. 

Williams accompanied De Kalb to the Carolinas. When Gates 
succeeded to the command, he bestowed onColonel Williams the post 
of Adjutant General, an honor which was continued to him, with 
the most flattering acknowledgements, by Greene. He was in the 
battles of Camden, Guilford, Hobkirk. and Eutaw. During Greene's 
famous retreat across North Carolina, Williams commanded the light 
troops which covered his rear. What Ney was to Napoleon in retir- 
ing from Russia, that Williams was to Greene in this emergen- 
cy! Never was a General-in-chief better seconded by any merely 
executive officer. When Greene re-Crossed the Dan, Williams was 
conspicuous in the manoeuvres that ensued. Cornwallis had 
resolved to force the American commander either to fight at a 
disadvantage or retreat ; but, the latter, determining to do neither, 
changed his camp daily, now advancing and now falling back, until 
the English General, lost in a maze of perplexity, knew not where 
to find him. Subsequently at the battle of Guilford, and afterwards 
at Eutaw, Williams highly distinguished himself. In the latter con- 
test he headed the charge which was so decisive. 

On the return of peace, WilUams, who had been raised, meantime, 
to the rank of a Brigadier, retired to his native state, where the col- 
iectorship of the port of Baltimore, the most lucrative office in Mary- 
land, was bestowed on him by the authorities as a token of the ap- 
preciation of his services. Washington, on acceding to the Presi- 
dency, continued Williams in this post. In 1794 Williams died of 
pulmonary consumption. His wife, whom he had married just be- 
fore, soon followed him to the grave, her days being shortened, it is 
said, by grief for her loss. 




FRANCIS MARION. 




HERE are few A me- 
rican readers, to 
whom the name of 
Marion is not a spell. 
It conjures up images 
of the forest camp, 
the moonlight march, 
the sudden attack, 
and all the romance 
of that daring war- 
fare which fascinated 
us when a boy ! In 
the popular fancy 
Marion holds the 
place of a great 
champion, not unlike 
King Arthur, in English legendary story. Yet there was nothing 
«hivalric, in the . ordinary sense of that term, about the south- 

NN 445 



fc46 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

ern hero. His personal prowess was inconsiderable. He never 
slew a man in single combat. He was small in stature, hard 
in manners, cautious, scheming and taciturn. No act of knightly 
emprize is recorded of him. But his achievements were so brilliant 
— they were performed with such apparently inadequate means — 
they followed each other in such rapid succession — and they were 
begun in so disastrous a period, and exercised so astonishing an in- 
fluence in arousing the south, that we gaze on his career as on that 
of some Paladin of old, suddenly raised up by enchantment, to dis- 
comfit all comers with his single arm. 

Marion was of Huguenot descent. He was born in 1732, near 
Georgetown, in South Carolina. His youth was spent chiefly on a 
farm, except during one short interval, when he went to sea. On 
this occasion he came near losing his life by drowning. When he 
returned, at his mother's anxious solicitation, he took up the pursuit 
of agricuhure. The restless spirit of his boyhood appeared to have 
been now totally subdued. Ambition seemed no longer a part of 
his nature. He followed the quiet life of men of his class, and was 
respected, beloved and honored. No one fancied that the name of 
Francis Marion would ever become great in history. 

The Indian war of 1760 found him in this condition. The Chero- 
kees, on the western frontier of the Carolinas, had long been trouble- 
some neighbors. They inhabited a luxuriant district, partly in the 
lower country and partly in the hilly region to the west. Their 
villages were well built, their corn-fields in high cultivation. They 
were a bold and turbulent nation, always doubtful allies, ever ready 
to lift the tomahawk at the slightest provocation. On the present 
occasion they had taken up arms at the instigation of the French. 
As the only means of ensuring tranquillity in future, it was deter- 
mined to break the heart of this proud people by penetrating to their 
most impregnable fastnesses, and laying the whole district waste 
with fire and sword. A strong force from the Canadas was de- 
spatched for this purpose to South Carolina. Marion joined the 
army as a Lieutenant, and now first distinguished himself. After all 
the lower country had been devastated, the troops advanced to the 
higher grounds. But at the famous pass of Etchoee, a narrow val- 
.ey between high hills, the bravest of the Cherokees had made a 
stand, resolved, with a spirit worthy of old Rome, to shed the last 
drop of their blood on this threshold of their nation. They occupied 
a strong position on the flank of the invading army. Before any 
progress could be made it became necessary to dislodge them, and a 
iarge corps was sent in advance for this purpose, preceded by a for • 



FRANCIS MARION. 447 

Jorn hope of thirty men. The command of this latter party was 
given to Marion. Their ascent was through a gloomy defile, flanked 
by impenetrable thickets, the very lurking places for a savage foe. 
Yet that gallant band went steadily forward, their leader marching 
in the van ! As the head of the column entered the defile, a savage 
yell was heard, as if from every bush around, and immediately a 
hundred muskets blazed on the assailants. Twenty-one of the for- 
lorn hope fell. But their leader was unhurt. Waving his sword, 
he called on the few that remained to follow him, and dashed up the 
ascent : he was soon reinforced by the advanced corps, which, stim- 
ulated by such heroism, followed close behind. The contest that 
ensued is to this hour spoken of with awe by the miserable remnant 
of that people. Never, perhaps, in the annals of Indian war was 
the carnage greater. For four hours the fight raged without inter- 
mission. The savages fought like men who cared not to survive a 
defeat. Driven by the bayonet again and again from their positions, 
they returned, like wounded lions, fiercer with agony and despair. 
But their heroism was of no avail. Discipline at length triumphed 
over untaught bravery. The Cherokees fled. Nor did they ever 
after rally. And for tj^irty days, the fire-brand and the bayonet 
went through their beautiful vallies, making once happy villages 
heaps of ruins, and reducing the whole district to a blackened and 
smoking desert. This work of devastation smote the heart of Marion 
with pity. In a letter attributed to him, his feelings are described 
with picturesque force. " I saw everywhere around," he writes, 
" the footsteps of the little Indian children, where they had lately 
played under the shelter of the rustling corn. When we are gone, 
thought I, they will return, and peeping through the woods with 
tearful eyes, will mark the ghastly ruin poured over their homes, 
and the happy fields where they had so often played. ' Who did 
this ? ' they will ask their mothers. ^ The white people, the Christians 
did it !' will be their reply." Whether Marion wrote this letter, or, 
which is more probable, Weems invented it, the sentiments are 
characteristic of that tenderness of heart, which, notwithstanding 
Marion's firmness and decision, was one of his most prominent 
qualities. 

For fourteen years after this campaign Marion was occupied on 
his farm. But he had acquired a reputation for skill and spirit 
during the Indian troubles, which was not forgotten, and subse- 
quently, when the storm of war began to darken the horizon, men 
turned to Marion with anxiety, as mariners to the veteran pilot. In 
1775, he was a member in the Provincial Congress of South Caro- 



448 THE HEROES OF THE KEVOLUTION. 

Una, and was among the most active in procuring the vote commil* 
ting that colony to the Revolution. It was during a partial adjourn- 
ment of this body that the news of the battle of Lexington reached 
Charleston by express. Instantly the chivalric Carolinians took fire 
The Congress was called together. Public spirit ran high. Two regi 
ments of infantry and one of cavalry were raised; a million of 
money was voted ; and an act of association was passed, by which all 
persons were declared enemies of the state who should refuse to join 
in resisting by force of arms the aggressions of the King. 

In one of the new regiments Marion received a Major's commis- 
sion. His Colonel was the celebrated Moultrie. He proved him- 
self an excellent disciplinarian, and the superiority of the regiment 
was, on all hands, attributed to his skill. During the attack on Sul- 
vlivan's Island, he was actively occupied in the fort, except when, 
with a small detachment, he boarded the armed schooneT Defence, 
to obtain powder. For his services on this occasion, he was raised 
by Congress to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in the regular army. 
For the next three years, the war languished in the south ; but in 
1779, when the British invaded Georgia, Marion re-appears upon 
the scene. He was only prevented from bging captured in Charles- 
ton on the fall of that place, by having broken an ankle : a misfor- 
tune which compelled him to leave the city when, just before the 
siege, all sick persons and officers unfit for duty were ordered to de- 
part. The manner in which this accident occurred is characteristic. 
Marion was dining with some friends, when the drinking became 
deep, and the host, to prevent the escape of any one, locked the 
door : on which Marion, who was habitually temperate, leaped 
from the window and fractured his ankle. 

Charleston fell. Four thousand men — all the available force at 
the south — came into the hands of the enemy ; and organized resist 
ance in South Carolina was at an end. Then the seven vials of 
wrath were opened on that devoted colony. Deceit was added to 
cruelty; and the miserable inhabitants, seduced by fair promises 
into swearing allegiance, soon learned that there is no refuge for the 
conquered, but in unmitigated and hopeless slavery. They had at 
first been asked only to remain quiet. They were now told that 
neutrality was impossible, and that they must either take up arms 
for the King or be punished as rebels. In vain they remonstrated, 
in vain they entreated : their masters were inexorable. One or two 
districts at length ventured to resist. It had been better for their 
inhabitants if they had never been born. Old men and immature 
boys were hung up without trial, and females of tender nurtur© 



FRANCIS MARION. 449 

brutally thrust from the doors which had been kept sacred to them 
since they were brides. The land was ravaged as no other had 
been since the Conqueror desolated the New Forest. One region, 
seventy miles long and fifteen broad, through which the British army 
passed, became a desert. A wife who asked to see her husband in 
prison was told to wait, and her request should soon be granted ; 
they left her, and returning with a brutal jest, pointed to their victim, 
suspended from the jail window, and yet quivering in the agonies 
of death. But God at last raised up an avenger ! Suddenly, in the 
very heart of the oppressed districts, there arose an enemy ; bitter, 
sleepless, unforgetful ; seemingly possessed of miraculous powers 
of intelligence ; whose motions were quick as lightning ; who dealt 
blows successively at points where no human foresight could have 
foreseen them ; and who, by a series of rapid and brilliant successes, 
made the British power tremble from centre. to circumxference. The 
secret of this was soon noised abroad. Marion had recovered, had 
raised a troop, had began the war again on his own account. His 
name became a terror to the foe, and a rallying word for the patri- 
ots. Wherever a surprise took place — wherever a convoy was cut 
off — wherever a gallant deed was done, men said that Marion had 
been there. And the aged widow, who had seen her bravest sons 
dragged to the shambles, gave thanks nightly to God that a defend- 
er had arisen for Israel. 

We can at this day have but a faint idea of the re-action that fol- 
lowed the successes of Marion. It was like the first feeling of hope 
after a shipwreck, in which every plank has gone down beneath us. 
It was like the cheering word of pardon to the criminal on the scaf- 
fold. Instantly, the colony rose from its sackcloth and ashes. It put 
off its garments of humiliation ; it assumed the sword ; it went forth 
to battle rejoicingly. In every direction around the British posts, men 
suddenly appeared in arms. They had no weapons; but the huge saws 
of the timber-mills were fabricated into sabres. They had no camp 
equipage ; but Marion slept on a forest couch, and so could they. They 
flocked to him in crowds. Mounted on fleet horses, they traversed the 
country under him, often marching sixty miles between sundown and 
daybreak, striking blows nowhere, now there, until the perplexed ene- 
my scarcely knew which way to turn, and began to regard, with name- 
less fear, this mysterious foe, who, if followed, could never be caught, 
but who was always at hand, with his terrible shout and charge, 
when least expected. 

The favorite rendezvous of Marion was at Snow Island. This is 
a piece of high river swamp, as it is called in the Carolihas, and was 

57 NN* 



450 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION, 

surrcimded on three sides by water, so as to be almost impregnable 
He rendered it mor^ so by destroying the bridges, securing the boats, 
and placing defences where they were required. The island, thus 
cut off from the mainland, was of some extent, and abounded with 
game. No one unacquainted with its labyrinths could have well 
found his way among its tortuous paths, overgrown with a luxuri- 
ant tropical vegetation and tangled with vines. Here Marion had 
his camp. From this fastness he issued forth at pleasure to ravage 
the enemy's granaries or capture a straggling party of his troop^. 
Secure in his retreat he had no fear of pursuit. The imagination 
kindles at the picture of that greenwood camp, and we are carried 
back to the days of old romance, when Robin Hood held court in Sher- 
wood Forest. There, with the laurel blooming over them, his bold 
followers slept as sweetly as under canopies of silk ; there, with the 
free, blue sky for their tent, they felt that liberty was theirs, in 
defiance of the British arms ; there, while the stars kept watch 
above, they dreamed of peace, and happiness, and plenty, yet to come, 
of pleasant homes and smiling wives, and of children prattling at 
their knee ! 

For carrying on a partizan warfare, such as now ensued, Marion 
was peculiarly fitted. Governor Rutledge had given him a commis- 
sion as Brigadier-General in the militia ; and no man understood bet- 
ter how to manage a volunteer force. His maxim was "feed high 
and then attack." When in the open field he never required his 
men to wait for a bayonet charge ; but after they had deliv- 
ered their fire, he ordered them to fall back under cover. By 
these means he kept them self-collected and confident ; and in 
consequence we know of but one instance of their having become 
panic-struck. The celerity of his movements supplied the place of 
numbers. His genius defied the want of arms, ammunition, and all 
the material of war. He was wary, scheming, clear-sighted, bold, 
rapid, energetic. No man but one possessing such a rare union of 
qualities could have made head against the British power after the 
defeat of Gates. At times, indeed, he suffered from despondency. 
Once he talked, despairingly, of retiring to the mountains. But no 
mind can be always on the rack, without giving way occasionally 
to the strain. To be melancholy at times, is the destiny of lofty na- 
tures, and few have achieved greatness without feeling often as if 
life Avere a burden gladly to be laid down. 

The war was conducted with savage ferocity. The tories hung 
their prisoners, the whigs retaliated on the tories. The British burn- 
ed the dwellings of the patriots, pillaged their barns, ravaged their 



FRANCIS MARION. 451 

fields, and set free their negroes. The Americans shot down senti- 
nels at their posts, cut ofFpicquets, and laid ambuscades for officers. 
Neither party for a while paid much respect to flags. Private re- 
venge entered deeply into the contest. At the taking of Georgetown 
Lieutenant Conyer sought out and murdered an English officer, from 
whom he had once suffered an indignity. A 55erjeant, whose private 
baggage had been captured, sent word to the British leader that, if 
it was not returned, he would kill eight of his men ; and the plundei 
was given up, for it was known he would keep his word. The same 
man shot at an English officer at a distance of three hundred yards. 
Yet there were occasional glimpses of chivalry shown on both sides. 
When Colonel Watson garrisoned Blakely's mansion, it was the resi- 
dence of a young lady whose lover belonged to the American force, 
which at that time, partially beleaguered the Englishmen ; and every 
day the fiery youth, like a knight of old, either singly or at the head 
of his troop, rode up to the hostile lines, and in sight of his mistress, 
defied the foe to mortal combat. Among the British officers. Major 
Macintosh became distinguished as the most humane. But the gene- 
ral character of the contest was such, that those who had been ac- 
customed to the comparative courtesy of European strife, declared ^ 
that the Americans fought like devils rather than like men. Greene 
himself wrote back to the north, that the war was one of butchery. 
But we doubt whether it could have been waged successfully in any 
other way. When a foreign invader has given your roof-tree to the 
flames, and driven you forth to herd with wild beasts, it is an instinct 
of human nature to slay him wherever he appears, to assail him 
in darkness, to " war even to the knife." The want of num- 
bers must be supplied by incessant watchfulness. It may do for 
kings playing at the game of war to talk of conducting it politely, 
but men fighting with a rope around their necks are not apt to be 
over nice. 

It would be impossible, in a sketch like this, to follow Marion 
through all his enterprises. He planned, with Lee, the surprise of 
Georgetown, which an accident only prevented being completely 
successful ; he defeated the tories at Black Mingo and at Tarcote , 
he captured Forts Watson and Motte ; he made a second and victo- 
'k)us attack on Georgetown ; he nearly annihilated General Frazier's 
cavalry at Parker's Ferry ; he scattered the English horse at St 
Thomas ; and, to the very close of the war, continued striking that 
series of sudden and decisive blows which made his name a terror to 
the foe, and which, in subsequent times, renders his career so bi-1- 
liant and fascinating. We can pause on one only of his numerous 



452 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

achievements. This was the dead! 7 ambush at Parker's Ferry. It 
was just before the struggle at Eutaw that it occurred. Greene 
and the British General were silently watching each other, when 
Marion suddenly set forth from the American camp, with two hun- 
dred picked men, on one of his many secret expeditions. Not even 
his officers knew the purpose of his march. His object, however, 
was to relieve Colonel Harden, at that time hard pressed by a British 
force of five hundred men. After traversing the couutry for a hun- 
dred miles, Marion came up with the Colonel. The enemy was 
close at hand, thundering in pursuit. The Americans, thus reinf reed, 
were hastily concealed in a swamp, and a small party sent out to lure 
th English into the ambuscade. The stratagem succeeded. Imagining 
he had no one to contend with but Colonel Harden, the British leader 
led his cavalry at full charge almost up to the muzzles of the conceal^ 
ed riflemen. But when the deadly fire of the American sharp-shoot- 
ers opened on him, the enemy recoiled in horror and dismay from 
that incessant torrent of missiles. Yet soon, with unfaltering bravery 
he rallied, and dashed again to the charge. A second time he was 
hurled back. And now began a fearful carnage. Hemmed in on 
the narrow causeway, unable either to advance or retreat, that gal- 
lant cavalry was fast melting away beneath Marion's fire, when the 
ammunition of the Americans gave out and they were forced to yield 
their ground. But so horrible had been the slaughter, that, at the 
battle of Eutaw, the enemy had scarcely a single troop of horse left 
to ! ring into the field. 

Marion continued with his brigade until after the evacuation of 
Charleston, when he retired to his farm, which he found a scene of 
ruins. He now resolved to apply himself seriously to agriculture, in 
hopes to repair his shattered fortunes. But his native state claiming 
his services, he was first a Senator to the Legislature, and afterwards 
mihtary commandant at Fort Johnson in the harbor of Charleston. 
In his senatorial capacity he opposed the continuance of the Confis- 
cation Act, wishing, now that peace had been gained, to forget and 
forgive all political delinquencies. He married a lady of wealth, but 
had no issue. He died on the 20th of February, 1795, in the sixty- 
third year of his age. . 







SUMPTER S ASSAULT ON THE BRITISH AT ROCKY MOTJNT. 



THOMAS SUMPTER. 



.^/r? UMPTER and Marion are names 
indissolubly connected in the memo- 
ry with all that was gallant and suc- 
cessful in the partizan warfare of 
the south. Both were leaders in the 
militia, both obtained signal victo- 
ries, and both were possessed of a 
superior genius for war. Yet, per- 
haps, no two men ever differed 
more in character. Marion was 
cautious, scheming, careful of his troops ; Sumpter bold, rash, and 
often prodigal of his men. The one could never be induced to fight 
unless nearly certain of success : the other was always ready for the 
contest, even when wisdom counselled a retreat. In the one pru- 
dence amounted almost to a foible ; in the other daring sometimes 
degenerated to folly. The difference between the two men is well 
described in the remark which Tarleton is said to have made 
respecting them, at the end of an unsuccessful pursuit of Marion : 

453 




454 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

" let us leave this d — d swamp-fox/' said the irritated Colonel, " and 
seek Sumpter ; he is a game cock always ready for a fight." 

Sumpter was born in Virginia, in the year 1734. While still a 
youth, his activity and intelligence in scouting recommended him to 
the notice of Lord Dunmore, who is said to have employed him on 
the frontier in a trust of equal hazard and importance. He was pre- 
sent at the battle of Monongahela, where he was so fortunate as to 
escape without a wound. At the close of the war he removed to 
South Carolina. He speedily acquired a commanding influence in 
the district where he settled ; and in consequence, in March, 1776, 
was recommended to the Provisional Congress for the post of Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel of the second regiment of riflemen. In this com- 
mand he continued for some years, but without any opportu- 
nity of distinguishing himself. The war in fact languished at the 
south, and his regiment was confined to overawing the tories. At 
last, in 1780, Charleston fell. The patriots generally fled in dismay. 
Not so Sumpter. He had seen his wife driven from her dwelling, 
and the torch applied to the habitation, while the enemy, like sav- 
age bloodhounds, hunted around the swamp whither he had fled for 
concealment. Hidden in that covert he had sworn to avenge his 
own and his country's wrongs. Nobly did he keep his vow ! 

Aware that little could be done as yet in his adopted state, he pass- 
ed into North Carolina, and visiting the patriot settlements, urged 
a rising against the British. At first those whom he addressed 
appalled by the conquest of Charleston, hesitated. But his eloquence, 
his lofty enthusiasm, and his bold decision of character finally 
prevailed, and it was not long before he found himself at the head of 
a considerable force. An anecdote is preserved of the manner in 
which he obtained his famous soubriquet ; and as it also illustrates 
his tact in enlisting recruits, we insert it as characteristic. There 
was a family of Gillespies, all large and active men, all celebrated 
for their love of cock-fighting. They had in their possession, among 
other game birds, a blue hen, renowned for her virtues. These men 
were engaged at their usual sport when Sumpter called upon them. 
'' Shame on you," he said, " to be wasting your time in such pursuits 
at a crisis like this ; go with me and I will teach you to fight with 
men." They looked up in amazement. But his fine soldierly 
aspect and his kindling eye, warmed up their patriotism as they 
gazed. They sprang to their feet and grasped his hand. " You are 
a Blue Hen's chicken," they said ; and enlisted almost to a man. 
He soon found himself at the head of a larger force than ho could 
arm. In this emergency the saws of the mills were fabricated mto 



THOMAS SUMPTER. 455 

sabres, lances were made by fastening knives at the end of a pole : 
and pewter dishes were melted into bullets. 

His first enterprise was directed against a party of tories who had 
collected at Williams' plantation, in the upper part of South Carolina. 
The enemy was surprised, and in a few minutes utterly defeated. 
Colonel Ferguson, the commander of the party, and Captain Huck, a 
tory leader, notorious for his brutality, were among the slain; indeed, 
not twenty of the whole number of the foe escaped alive. This bril- 
liant stroke was the more exhilarating to the Americans because 
wholly unexpected ; and being accompanied almost simultaneously, 
by the successes of Marion in another quarter of the state, cheered 
the patriots with a prospect of eventual redemption from the yoke of 
the conquerer. Recruits flockea to both commanders. Governor 
Rutledge promptly sent Suinptci i commission as Brigadier in the 
militia, a rank which he also conferred on Marion, dividing the state 
between the two leaders. Sampler was now at the head of six hun- 
dred men. He left the enemy scarcely time to recover from his first 
blow before he dealt a second. On the 30th of July he attacked the 
British fort at Rocky Mount, but, though he thrice assaulted the 
works, they proved too strong to be reduced without artillery, and 
he was compelled finally to draw ofi' his men, with a heavy loss. 
The action, however, had assisted to discipline his troops, to give 
them confidence in their leader, and to whet their appetite for new 
enterprises. Without losing a moment, Sumpter now turned on 
Hanging Rock. This post was defended by five hundred men. The 
attack was so impetuous that the first line of the British instantly gave 
way and fell back on the second, composed of one hundred and sixty of 
Tarleton's infantry. This also retired in confusion, after a desper- 
ate struggle. Nothing now remained but the centre of the foe, which, 
however, was so well posted that it could not be routed ; and in the end. 
Sumpter abandoned the enterprise, though so terribly had the British 
suff'ered that they did not dare to pursue him. 

Hitherto he had been either decidedly victorious, or had engaged 
the enemy with such comparative success, that his enterprises had 
possessed all the moral force of triumphs. But a reverse was at hand. 
On the 16th of August he captured a British train of wagons ai 
Carey's Fort, and was retiring negUgently with his plunder, wher- 
Tarleton, two days after, overtook him at Fishing Creek, and com- 
pletely routed him. Undismayed, however, Sumpter hurried to 
North Carolina, recruited his shattered forces, and was speedily us 
the field again, as active, daring, and dreaded as ever. Taking up 
a position at Fishdam Ford, he was assaulted here on the 5th of No- 



456 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

vember, by Colonel Wemyss, at the head of the sixty-third regiment 
and corps of dragoons. A total defeat of the British was the con- 
sequence. This success was the more inspiring to the patriot because 
it was the first. important one since the defeat of Gates at Camden. 
Mortified at the check, Cornwallis now despatched Tarleton a 
second time against Sumpter, who meantime had moved from his 
former position. The Americans retreated over the Tiger river, 
where they took up a strong position, intending to hold it during the 
day, and retreat as soon as night should throw its protecting mantle 
around. But the impetuosity of Tarleton having led that officer, 
with a portion of his force, to advance some distance before the 
main body, Sumpter seized the advantage thus afforded, and issuing 
boldly from his position, in a few minutes put his antagonist to 
flight. One hundred and ninety-two of the British were left on the 
field. The Americans suffered comparatively little. Sumpter, how- 
ever, was severely wounded. Suspended in an ox-hide between two 
horses, he was now conveyed to North Carolina, where he lay, for 
a long time, incapacitated for service. The best testimony, perhaps, 
to his merits, was that paid by Cornwallis, on hearing of his wound. 
Writing to Tarleton, the British General said : " I shall be very glad 
to learn that Sumpter is in a condition to give us no further trouble. 
He certainly has been our greatest plague in this country." 

Sumpter was able to take the field early in 1781, in order to assist 
in diverting the attention of the enemy during the retreat of Greene 
through North Carolina. On the return of the army to South Caro- 
lina, Sumpter assisted in reducing the British chain of forts. For a 
period he now retired from active service. To this he was compelled 
by exhaustion and wounds. During his absence the terrible battle 
of Eutaw was fought ; but though not present himself, his brigade 
was, and did good service. When he rejoined his command, recruited 
in health and spirits, the war was virtually at an end. 

Little remains to be said of the subsequent life of Sumpter, except 
that it was prosperous, happy and honored. He was a member of 
Congress and afterwards a United States Senator. His term of years 
was extended far beyond that usually allotted to mankind ; and he 
lived to see one after another of his brother Generals drop into the 
grave, while he remained the last. His death occurred at his resi 
dence near Bedford Springs, South Carolina, June the 1st, 1832, 
when he was in the ninety-eighth year of his age. 




HENRY LEE. 




ENRY LEE, Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Com- 
mandant of the parti- 
zan legion, was born 
in Virginia, in the 
year 1757. At the 
age of nineteen he 
entered the continen- 
tal army as Captain 
of cavalry in the line 
of his native state j 
and speedily becom- 
ing distinguished for 
his activity, enterprise 
and daring, rose to the 
rank, of Major. In 
1 778, he planned an at- 
tack on Paulus Hook, 
a British post opposite 
New York. He sur- 
prised and captured 
the garrison, and safe- 
ly carried off his prisoners to the American lines, the exploit being 
58 GO 457 



458 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

* 

performed without the loss of a man. This brilliant affair ensured 
him the esteem and favor of the Commander-in-chief. Soon after 
he was appointed to raise a legionary corps, to act under him as a 
partially independent commander ; and the renown of his name 
speedily enabled him to enlist his complement of men. 

Lee accompanied Greene to the south immediately after the dis- 
astrous battle of Camden. His earliest exploit was in the retreat 
towards the Dan, when, in conjunction with Col. Otho WilUams, he 
covered the rear in the most brilliant manner. From this period his 
services were constant, and generally crowned with success. He 
usually hung on the skirts of Greene's army, annoying the enemy 
at every opportunity and in every way. Occasionally he was 
detached from the main army to co-operate with others. It was at 
one of these periods that he and Marion made their gallant, though 
unsuccessful attempt on Georgetown. Subsequently, in conjunction 
with that General, he played an important part in the reduction of 
the British chain of posts, contributing more than any other man to 
the redemption of the south, if we except Greene and Marion. 

The legion of Lee was in constant motion. It endured privations 
of all kinds, not only without a murmur, but with enthusiasm. Most 
of its recruits were from the middle states. They were generally en- 
terprising young men, of superior intelligence, education and condi- 
tion in life to the ordinary privates of an army. Their leader was 
of their own age, and regarded them as brothers. Their numbers 
were not large, and they lived consequently in the closest intimacy 
with each other. Distinguished by superior privileges, and proved 
by the many gallant deeds they had performed, they acquired gradu- 
ally a feeling of conscious superiority and confidence in themselves, 
which, as in the case of the Old Guard, went far towards making 
them irresistible. Together they endured a thousand privations ; 
together they conquered a thousand difficulties ; together they shared 
a thousand perils. At the distance of half a century from the period 
of their separation, they still remembered each other's faces as if they 
had only parted the day before ; and it is said that when two of 
their number happened to meet after that long separation, they rushed 
instinctively together, and with tears, ejaculated each other's name. 

Lee resembled Marion rather tharx Sumpter in character. He 
mingled caution with enterprise, was exceedingly careful of the lives 
of his men, and never exposed them to unnecessary toils, or to risks 
too great for the expected benefit. Yet he was bold at times, almost 
to a fault ; and his prudence resulted more from necessity than in- 
•tinct. For one so voung to have displayed such qualities merits 



HENRY LEE. 459 

the highest praise. We cannot rank Lee among the ordinary leaders 
of the Revolution. He deserves to be called the Murat of Ame- 
rica — though he had far more intellect — and needed only the 
same enlarged sphere and vast means to rival that chivalrous 
officer. It must be borne in mind, when forming an estimate of our 
revolutionary heroes, that the slender resources of the country con- 
tinually crippled their exertions, and that they were Irequently com- 
pelled to be cautious, when bolder measures would have better 
suited their tastes. It is a remarkable fact that every leader who dis- 
regarded prudence, and attempted to carry on the war as war was 
carried on in Europe, failed with signal disgrace. That Lee, at 
twenty-two, should have been what he was, proves his extraordinary 
genius. Cornwallis said of him, " that he came a soldier from his 
mother's womb." 

The legion was continually in the, most critical positions. Once, 
when the siege of Ninety-Six was relieved, it ha(l barely time to 
escape, so sudden was the approach of the enemy. It may give 
an idea of its mode of life to introduce an anecdote here. Some 
peas and beef had been procured, and the men were eagerly watch- 
ing the process of boiling, when the alarm was given. Instantly 
every man was in his saddle. But, loathe to leave the dinner for 
which they had been hungrily waiting, each soldier grasped what 
he could get, some a piece of beef, others a cap full of peas, and 
galloped off: and, perhaps, a more ludicrous spectacle was never 
seen than the troops in their flight, 1 aning over Jowards each other 
and oargaining beef for peas and peas for beef, all eating so fast they 
could scarcely speak. Another anecdote will illustrate Lee's cau- 
tion. He always, at night, posted guards around the house where 
he expected to sleep, yet often, after the troopers generally had sunk 
to repose, he would steal out into the open air and share the blanket 
of some favorite. This he did to prevent having his person sur- 
prised. 

When the war terminated, he returned to his native state. Here 
honors were heaped on him by the grateful citizens. He was elect- 
ed to the Legislature, chosen a delegate to Congress, and appointed 
one of the convention by which the present federal constitution of 
the United States was adopted. He was also, for three years. Gov- 
ernor of Virginia. Subsequently he was a member of Congress 
under the federal constitution. He appeared in military life, but 
once, after the peace of 1 780 : this was when he joined the army 
sent to quell the whiskey insurrection in Western Pennsylvania. 
He lived to the age of sixty-one, and died at Cumberland Island, 



WQQ THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

Georgia, on his return from the W«st Indies to Virginia. The pru 
dence which distinguished him as a miUtary leader, unfortunately 
did not follow him into the transactions of private life, and, after 
having lived hospitably and generously, it was his lot, in o.d age, to 
die poor. His last hours, however, were sweetened by being per- 
mitted to die in the arms of the son of an old mesinate, whom he 
had loved as a brother. 

We cannot close this sketch without referring to a story which 
has been propagated respecting Martin Rudolph, one of Lee's 
legion. It is said that this individual secretly went to France, at 
the period of the revolution in that country, and entering the army 
of the Rhine under an assumed name, subsequently became the re- 
nowned Marshal Ney. The disappearance of Rudolph from America 
in 1792; the similarity of his character to that of tiie impetuous 
Ney ; and an assertion that the French hero denied being a native 
of France, are the chief grounds on which this romantic story is 
based. We have the authority, however, of a surviving member of 
Lee's legion, who was Rudolph's companion for years, to say that 
in the published portraits of Marshal Ney, there is no resemblance 
to the American hero ; and knowing, as we do, the informant's accu- 
rate iiiemoiy in such things, we should regard this evidence as con- 
clusive, even if the fiction was sustained by stronger proofs than 
those yet adduced. The gentleman to whom we refer is Captain 
James Cooper, of Haddonfield, N. J. We believe that, with a 
single exception, he is the sole surviving member of the legion. 




MORGAN AT THE BATl'LE OF STILLWATEa- 



DANIEL MORGAN. 




ANIEL MORGAN, a Major-General in 
the American army, was born in New 
Jersey, in 1736. He belonged to the same 
[class of military heroes as Putnam, Wayne 
and Arnold, and was known, among his 
cotemporaries, as "the thunderbolt of war." 
His intellect was not comprehensive, nor his education 
extensive ; but he had great prudence, an invaluable gift, 
especially when combined with high personal courage. 
jf ^/' His early life was spent in Virginia, where he followed 
S i/^l the occupation of a wagoner. While attending Brad- 
dock^s army in this capacity, he was subjected to the 
indignity of receiving four hundred and fifty lashes, for having struck 
an officer who had insulted him. He endured his horrible punish- 
ment without flinching, though he fainted at last from extremity of 
anguish ; and, what is creditable to his heart, forgave the man Avho 
had injured him, when the latter, discovering that he had been in 
fault in the original difference, asked Morgan's pardon. In conse- 
quence of being disabled by this punishment, Morgan was not 
present on the fatal field of Monougahela. 

00 461 



462 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLTTTION. 

On his recovery he was appointed to the rank of Ensign, and soon 
became distinguished for his enterprise, activity and courage. He 
attracted the notice of Washington and secured the friendship of that 
great man. On one occasion he had an almost miraculous escape, 
from death. Accompanied by two scouts, he was carrying des- 
patches to a frontier fort, when the crack of rifles was heard, and 
his companions fell dead beside him. At the same time a ball, en- 
toi iiig the back of his neck, passed out through his cheek, after shat- 
tering his jaw. Looking around, he saw several savages start from 
a neighboring thicket, one of whom gave pursuit with his tomahawk 
raised to strike. Though believing himself mortally wounded, Mor- 
gan resolved not to yield his scalp without an effort, and, grasping 
the mane of his horse, dashed spurs into the sides of the animal and 
shot off towards the fort. At this the savage, perceiving the chase 
likely to be an abortive one, threw his hatchet, but the weapon fell 
short,' and Morgan succeeded in gaining the fort. For many years 
afterwards, Morgan lived at Battletown, in Virginia, where he was 
celebrated for his devotion to pugilistic exercises. Nor was this 
trait singular. In his humble sphere he played the bully, as, in a 
loftier one, he would have been a dueUst : for men of his temperament 
are impelled to action restlessly, and if not heroes, must be profligates. 

When the war of independence began, Morgan was appointed a 
Captain, and immediately began to raise a rifle company, which 
proved the nucleus of the celebrated corps that afterwards was of such 
service during the contest. Morgan, in three weeks, with his new 
recruits, completed the march from Virginia to Cambridge, a distance 
of six hundred miles. A short time after his arrival at head-quar- 
ters, he was detached to join the expedition of Arnold against Can- 
ada ; and, in the fatal attack on Quebec, in which Montgomery fell, 
signahzed himself by an exhibition of the most desperate bravery. 
He belonged to Arnold's division, and, assuming the command after 
that General was wounded, stormed the defence, and even gained 
the second barrier. But here, notwithstanding every exertion, his 
assault failed, and he was taken prisoner with most of his men. 
His dashing courage during the attack had attracted the notice of 
the British Governor, and the rank of Colonel in the royal army was 
proffered him as an inducement to desert his countrymen. The pro- 
posal was rejected with scorn. His conduct in this affair met the 
approval of Washington and of Congress to such a degree, that, on 
being exchanged, he was immediately raised to the rank of Colonel, 
and the rifle brigade, which had now increased to the number of 
five hundred men, consigned to his command. 



DANIEL MORGAN. 46^ 

When Burgoyne, in 1777, was advancing into the heart of New 
York, attended by hordes of Indian alUes, Morgan was despatched 
to join Gates, in order, as Washington wrote, that there might be a 
man in the American camp " to fight the Indians in their own way." 
His services, during the campaign that ensued, were of the most 
signal value. He opened the battle of Stillwater, and drove in the 
Canadians and Indians ; but being, at last, overpowered by numbers, 
was forced back on Arnold's main position. In the ensuing skir- 
mishes between the two armies, Morgan's corps was in constant 
requisition. But when Burgoyne surrendered, Gates meanly over- 
looked his subordinate in the despatches. It is narrated that, at a 
dinner given to some English officers, the General was waited 
,on by a person in uniform, whose appearance so struck the guests 
that they enquired his name : when what was their astonishment to 
learn that this was the redoubtable Morgan, whos5 prowess they 
had so often felt, and an introduction to whom they had vainly de- 
sired since their capture. The cause of this neglect of Gates, as sub- 
sequently discovered, was a refusal to join in the cabal against 
Washington. During most of the ensuing years of the war, Mor- 
gan served with the main army. In 1780, however, he retired 
to his farm in Frederick county, Virginia, completely disabled by a 
rheumatism brought on by exposure during his campaigns. 

When Charleston fell, and Gates was appointed to the southern 
army, Morgan, although but partially recovered, accepted the rank 
of Brigadier-General, and consented to serve under his old leader. 
He did not arrive at head-quarters, however, until after the battle 
of Camden ; but came with General Greene, when sent to displace 
Gates. Soon after he was despatched to the country in the vicinity 
of the Pacolet River, in order to rouse the spirits of the patriots in 
that quarter, as also to make a demonstration against Ninety-Six, 
Tarleton was immediately sent in pursuit. Morgan halted to 
receive the British at a place called the Cowpens. A sharp, but de- 
cisive battle ensued, the particulars of which we have narrated at 
sufficient length in another place. The victory was owing, in part, 
to Morgan's admirable positions, in part to the firmness of Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel Howard, at the head of the Maryland line. Knowing 
that Cornwallis, who was but twenty-five miles distant, would be 
upon him if he delayed, Morgan, on the same day, continued his 
retreat, and succeeded in crossing the Catawba in safety with his 
prisoners, though the whole British army was pressing rapidly in 
pursuit. The moral efi'ect of the battle of the Cowpens was 
so great as to be almost incalculable. It strikingly exemplifies 



464 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

Morgan's military character. In the judicious tempering of courage 
with prudence, so eminently exhibited on that day, we recognize 
the quality to which he was indebted for success and glory through- 
out his whole career. 

It was shortly after this famous battle that Morgan retired from 
the southern army. He had differed from Greene as to the course 
to be pursued in the celebrated retreat across North Carolina, and 
to this fact many have attributed his return to private life ; but the 
more charitable supposition is, that his rheumatism, from which he 
still suffered acutely, led to this result. Lee, in his narrative of the 
campaign, exonerates Morgan from any unworthy motive in retiring. 
On the advance of Cornwalhs intp Virginia, Morgan again took the 
field, and served until the capitulation at Yorktown. He now 
returned to his farm, which he had called " Saratoga,'^ in memory 
of the earlier d^ys of his glory ; and here, devoting himself to agri- 
culture, and to historical reading, he spent the chief part of the 
remainder of his days. In 1791, when the Indian war broke out, it 
is said that Washington desired to place him at the head of the 
expedition sent to chastise the savages ; but the pretensions of St. 
Clair were, perhaps, too well sustained. In 1794, however, at 
the crisis of the " whiskey insurrection," Morgan was appointed to 
the force marched against the insurgents. After this, he served for 
two sessions in Congress. In 1802, he died at Winchester, in Virginia. 

The intellect of Morgan was keen, and if it had been suitably in- 
formed, would have left him few superiors. In physical courage he 
resembled Ney, Macdonald and Murat. His early life was reckless 
in some respects ; but this was merely the result of high animal spirits ; 
for, even during his residence at Battletown, he was acquiring, by 
his prudent sagacity, a comfortable farm. In later years he became 
eminently pious. He had always, indeed, possessed strong religious 
feelings, and was accustomed frequently to pray before going into 
battle. He used afterwards to say, that when he saw Tarleton 
advancing, at the Cowpens, his heart misgave him, and it was not 
imtil he had retired to a clump of woods concealed from sight, and 
theie prayed fervently, that he felt relieved. "Ah !" he remarked, 
recounting this incident, " people said old Morgan never feared — > 
they thought old Morgan never prayed^ — they did not know — old 
Morgan was often miserably afraid." This constitutional depression 
of spirits on the eve of great emergencies, has always been character- 
istic of the bravest men. And, in fact, does not the almost super- 
human courage such individuals exhibit in battle arise from the 
rebouiid ? In Morgan's case, at least, it would seem to have been so 




THADDEUS KOSCIUSZKO; 

1 EVER, perhaps, was 
there a more chivalrous 

;i soul than burned in the 
bosom of Thaddeus Kos- 
ciuszko ! This gallant 
soldier, better known as 
the hero of Poland, serv- 
ed, in his early life, in 
the continental army of 
the United States, in 
which he held the rank 
of Brigadier-General. — 
He was born on the 12th 
of February, 1756, of an 
ancient and noble fami- 
ly in Lithuania. Having 
been educated in the 
military school at War 
saw, he received a Captaincy through the influence of Prince Czar 
59 465 




466 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

toriski ; but, endeavoring to elope with a lady of higher rank thai 
himself, he was pursued, wounded and obliged to leave Poland. 
From that hour he appears to have romantically made his sword his 
mistress. The Revolution in America having just broken out, Kos- 
ciuszko, inspired by a passionate love for freedom, hastened to our 
shores and offered us his aid. His abilities were immediately per- 
ceived by Washington, who took him n.^o his family ; and subse- 
quently sent him with Greene to the south, with the rank of a Brig- 
adier. Here he acted as principal engineer to the army. At the 
attack on Ninety-Six, where he directed the beseiging operations, he 
won the highest credit, behaving with unusual personal intrepidity, 
and evincing profound military science. At the close of the war he 
returned to Europe, carrying with him an enviable reputation. 

But it was the part he took in the struggle of Poland, in the years 
1792 and 1794, which has made the name of Kosciuszko immortal. 
The prodigies of valor he performed, the terror his mere presence 
struck into the foe, scarcely belong to modern warfare, but carry the 
iniagination back to the fabled knights of old. At Dubienka, in 
1792, at the head of four thousand men, he thrice repulsed the 
attack of the Russian army, eighteen thousand strong. On the sub- 
mission of Stanislaus, Kosciuszko retired in disgust from Poland. 
But, in 1794, when the last and greatest struggle of the Poles 
occurred, he hastened once more to unsheath the sword for his 
native land. His appearance at Cracow, the ancient seat of the 
Jagellons, was hailed with tumultuous sliouts. As the friend of 
Washington, and the hero of many a bloody field, he was looked up 
to as the only man who could rescue Poland ; and accordingly, on 
the 24th of March, notwithstanding his comparatively early years, 
was proclaimed Dictator and Generalissimo. A victory gained 
withhi a fortnight over twelve thousand Russians, while Kosciuszko 
had but four thousand Poles, filled the nation with enthusiasm. 
Troops flocked to his banner, and he soon found himself at the head 
of thirteen thousand men. But, alas ! they were not such as in the 
days of Sobieski, when it was the proud boast of the Polish horse- 
men, that if the heavens were to fall, they would support it on the 
points of their lances. Ill armed and worse disciplined, the Polish 
army could not always command victory, even with Kosciuszko at 
its head. On the 6th of June he was defeated by a superior force 
of Russians and Prussians, and compelled to retire on his entrench- 
ments at Warsaw, to preserve himself from utter ruin. , 

Here he was speedily beseiged by an army of sixty thousand men. 
Day and night his little band watched and fought, until weeks grew 



THADDEUS KOSCIUSZKO. 467 

into months, and the summer was nearly past. But the enemy could 
make no impression on the works. At last a general assault was 
ordered. It was manfully repulsed by Kosciuszko, at the head of 
ten thousand men, though sixty thousand Russians and Prussians 
swarmed to the attack. This repulse set Poland in a blaze. The 
tocsin of freedom sounded through the land, and her population rose 
in a xiving mass. The siege of Warsaw was raised. Troops 
crowded to the banner of Kosciuszko. He was hailed with rapture 
as the dehverer of his country. But the exultation of his fellow 
citizens was destined to be of short duration. Kosciuszko himself 
scarcely dared to hope for permanent success, surrounded as he was 
by three mighty empires, all sworn to his destruction ! The defeat 
at Warsaw was no sooner known in Russia than the most extensive 
preparations were made to prepare an army which should crush 
forever the Polish patriots. 

This gigantic force, numbering sixty thousand, met Kosciuszko, 
at the head of twenty thousand, on the plains of Maciejowice. 
Three times the Russians assaulted the Pohsh lines, and three times 
they were repulsed ; but on the fourth attack they succeeded in 
breaking the ranks of the patriots, now weakened by a loss of one- 
third their number. Kosciuszko, seeing the day going against him, 
made a desperate effort to retrieve the field. CalHng a few equally 
brave souls around him, he rushed headlong on the assailants; and 
for a while they shrank appalled before his impetuous charge ! But, 
soon rallying, they hemmed in the hero, who fell, at last, pierced by 
numerous wounds. " Poland is no more !" were his words, as he 
sank to the earth. His army, hearing he was down, fled in every 
direction. With him the cohesive principle of the struggle departed, 
and the war was terminated, in a short time, by the complete subju 
gation of the nation. 

Kosciuszko spent some time in the dungeons of Russia, but on the 
accession of Paul, was released. That monarch even strove to pro- 
pitiate the hero, and would have presented his own sword to Kosci- 
uszko ; but the latter declined the gift, saying that " he who no 
longer had a country, no longer had need of a weapon." True to 
his word, he never wore a sword again. He now visited America, 
where he received a pension. In 1798, he returned to Europe, and 
was presented by the Poles, in the army of Italy, with the sword of 
John Sobieski. Napoleon would have made use of him as an instru- 
ment in conciliating the Poles, and for this purpose endeavored to 
flatter the now aged hero with hopes of the restoration of his native 
land. But Kosciuszko was not to be deluded, and he constantly 



468 



THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 



refused the sanction of his name. Having purchased an estate near 
Fontainbleau, he hved there in retirement until the year 1814. He 
now spent a year in Italy. In 1816, he fixed his final residence at 
Soleure, in Switzerland. A fall from his horse, over a precipice, on 
the 10th of October, 1817, occasioned his death. The Emperor 
Alexander, who had long entertained a high admiration of the hero, 
caused the body of Kosciuszko to be removed to Poland, and de- 
posited at Cracow, in the tombs of the ancient Kings. 

Kosciuszko was a General of the very highest talent, and a patriot' 
of the most self-sacrificing character. As Washington was the hero 
of the American Revolution, so Kosciuszko was that of the Polish 
struggle of 1794. How different their fates! The one, crowned 
with success, died in the midst of a nation founded by his victories 
the other, a hopeless exile, devoured by bitter melancholy, perished 
alone, and in a foreign land. The one lies in his ancestral shades. 
The other cannot, even in death, repose on Polish soil ! The tombs 
of the Jagellons, that should ever have been held sacred, are, by a 
late ? ct of perfidy, transferred to Austria dominion. 





ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 




LEXANDER HAMILTON, Inspector-Gc 
neral of the American army, was born at 
the island of St. Croix, in the year 1757*, 
but came to the city of New York at the 
age of seventeen, with his mother, who was 
an American. In 1775, he entered the army 
as an officer of artillery. He soon attracted 
the notice of Washington, who selected him 
for an aid, and in whose military family he 
continued many years. 

Some men are distinguished for excellence in one department : 
such were Adams, Putnam, Henry, and a host of other ! A few excel 
m all things. Of this class was Hamilton. The versatility of his 
mind was not less remarkable than its depth. Quick to apprehend, 
clear to reason, comprehensive to judge, he filled in succession the 
PP 469 



470 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

parts of. soldier, jurist, statesman and author, with a brilliancy thai 
dazzled his cotemporaries, and almost taxes the credulity of posteri- 
ty. Yet there was nothing of the charlatan in his assuming so many 
characters. His intellect was one of those evenly balanced ones which 
can master every subject to which it turns its energies ; and Hamil- 
ton never trusted to his abilities alone, but fortified himself by long 
and ardent study. His distinguishing trait, like Napoleon's, was a 
mathematical precision, which, in the vast recesses of his mind, 
reduced all things to syllogisms, and thus seemed, in its results, to 
be infallible. His majestic bust, as preserved to us by the chisel of 
the sculptor, is the t^^pe of intellectual power. In every lineament of 
that striking yet beautiful countenance, in the lofty forehead, the 
serene mouth, the brow knitted in thought, there is revealed that 
colossal mind, whose counsels, when uttered, come with the force 
of prophecies ! 

Hamilton is one of those characters in history who are more 
known by results, than by any single act of peculiar brilliancy. He 
did not blaze out in successive flashes, but shone with steady and 
continual eifulgence. His political career, like that of the younger 
Pitt, is still a theme for controversy. No one can deny that he ex- 
ercised a mighty influence over his age. No one can refuse to admit 
that he meant well. No one but acknowledges that his measures 
were productive of present, when not of permanent good. Yet his 
political creed, at least in its original strictness, is a dead letter. It 
has no advocates. It boasts few even secret friends. Those who 
approximate nearest to it, would have been considered by him and 
by his party not less heterodox in their belief than his worst antag- 
onists. But it does not follow that Hamilton was not a great states- 
man for his times, any more than that the mighty intellects of the 
present day are over-rated, because, fifty years hence, new dis- 
coveries in political science may scatter what are now popular theo- 
ries to the winds. The law of the mind is progress. Each generation, 
moreover, has its atmosphere of prejudice, which imperceptibly 
aff'ects modes of thought ; and frequently one age condemns another 
for want of wisdom, when the foolishness is in itself Without 
assuming to pass judgment on Hamilton, we shall hastily sketch his 
portrait, as well as that of the times in which he moved. 

Hamilton is conceded to have been a great military genius, yet, at 
this day, we can scarcely see on what this reputation was based. It 
rests more on general consent than on any one brilliant act. It is 
said that his suggestions, on several occasions, led to the most deci- 
%ive results 3 and the surprise at Trenton has been attributed to him 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 471 

by more than one writer. But there is no evidence in favor of this 
It is, on the contrary, certain that Washington was the first origina- 
tor of that splendid attack. Yet, though no particular act of his can 
be quoted as proof, we cannot refuse credit to the military genius of 
Hamilton. His cotemporaries, who knew his abilities from personal 
observation, could judge of what he might have done, if the oppor- 
tunity had been presented, while we, who can only measure him by 
what he achieved, are comparatively in the dark. He carried with 
him, out of the war, a reputation for dashing courage, brilliant tac- 
tics, profound and comprehensive strategy. Judging, as impartial 
men, we must pronounce this opinion right. Hamilton could not 
have been less than a great military leader ; for, in analysing his 
character, we find all the necessary qualifications. He possessed 
vast mathematical ability. He was always cool, rapid, and of the 
keenest insight. At Monmouth, where he rushed on death to check 
the retreat, and at Yorktown, where he stormed the batteries without 
pulling a trigger, he showed himself as brave, yet as self-collected 
as any Paladin of old. To crown all, he had been brought up by 
Washington. With these advantages a weaker man than Hamilton 
would have become a great Captain. 

When he returned to civil life he adopted the profession of the 
law, and soon become as celebrated here as in his military career. 
Yet he had received little, or none of that training, which is con- 
sidered indispensable to the great advocate. His eloquence, as it 
has came down to us by tradition, bore the impress of a rich, but 
uncultivated mind. It was strong, direct, commanding, rather than 
gentle, seductive, or ornamental. It had nerves of iron, and fibres 
of silver. It was the eloquence of a man in earnest. It en- 
dured no trifling. Yet it was not bold, like that of his great 
rival. Burr. On the contrary, it gave evidence of the luxu- 
riant source from which it sprung ; and, while rushing and irresisti- 
ble, was still broad and deep. His principles were such as were 
worthy of his intellect. He loathed duplicity, scorned meanness, 
hated villainy. He was honorable and high-minded. Yet, in some 
things, he allowed his zeal to outstrip his justice. He was often 
indiscreet. He could make others, when he wished, dislike him 
cordially ; and he could dislike in turn. He had not the stern virtue 
of Jay, at all times, to resist the temptations of policy or the fear of 
public opinion. Yet he was, on the whole, a pure man ; purer than 
most of his cotemporaries ; and his death, when he fell by the hand 
of Burr, jnade a vacancy never since filled. 

It would be the best epitaph for Alexander Hamilton, that he 



472 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

contributed, more than any other man, to procure the adoption of 
the Constitution of these United States. The peace of 1783 found 
the colonies united under the articles of the old confederation. But 
having been chosen during the hurry of the war, they were crude 
and clumsy, exhibiting in every feature the mutual jealousies of the 
states. Each commonwealth was, to all purposes, an independent 
sovereignty. The power of Congress was merely advisory. Nc 
compulsion could be exercised by that body over the separate mem 
bers of the confederacy. Neither taxes could be Ifevied, nor duties 
raised in any state where the tax or duty was unpopular. Mean- 
while the revenue was inadequate to pay the interest of the debt, 
much less to liquidate the principal. The holders of scrip complained: 
the soldiers clamored for arrears. Otiicers who had spent their all 
in. the service of their country, and who only asked a return of what 
they had expended, in vain petitioned for relief, and died, with their 
families, in miserable destitution. The indifference to obhgations, 
exhibited by the states, began to spread to private individuals : the 
force of contracts was less and less regarded ; disorganization every- 
where infested political and social life. Massachusetts was the scene 
of insurrection. It was evident that, if this state of things continued, 
anarchy must ensue. Confidence in republicanism began to give 
way. Men of fortune trembled for their property. Commerce waa 
dead ; manufactures, there were none ; even agriculture languished 
in the general decay. 

At last the evil became endurable no longer. All parties agreed 
that a change was necessary, and the result was a proposal for a 
general convention, in which some form of government, more pliable 
than the old confederation, might be adopted. The convention moi 
in 1787. Never, perhaps, will- a more august body assemble. It 
numbered, among its members, the purest as well as the ablest of 
the land : men eminent for wisdom, for learning, for immaculate 
probity. But it was soon found that their sentiments were as diverse 
as their modes of life, or the states from which they came. The 
secrecy which, for a long time, veiled the transactions of that body, 
has now been drawn aside, and we can speak of its proceedings 
with accuracy, if not with impartiality. Two great parties divided 
the convention. On each side was arrayed vast ability, and an 
honesty of purpose that could not be questioned. One section, fear- 
ing that anarchy was at hand, declared in favor of imitating the 
British Constitution ; another, unwilling for the sovereignty of the 
states to be absorbed, wished to patch up the old confederation. It 
is difficult, at this day, to place ourselves sufficiently on a level with 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 473 

that period to do equal justice to both parties. It must be recollect 
ed that no republic had then ever successfully preserved its liberty, 
and that England was confessedly the freest country on the globe. 
It must be remembered, also, that monarchy was familiar to the 
people, and that, scarcely twenty years before, America had been 
over zealous in loyalty. It was not so strange, therefore, that men 
should lean to a strong government, especially when they saw no 
guide by which to carry the nation through the anarchy that threat- 
ened on all hands. Hamilton was one of those who favored con- 
solidation. He may even have distrusted the capacity of the people 
for self-government ; but he was willing to give them a fair trial, 
and pledged all the influence of his talents on that side. The result 
was a compromise between the two parties, and the adoption of the 
Constitution in its present shape. In favor of this instrument Ham- 
ilton successfully exerted his eloquence, in order to procure its 
adoption by the states. 

For a while the friends and enemies of the new government united 
to give it a fair trial. But this did not continue long. Hamilton 
had been appointed Secretary of the Treasury; and the first object 
that claimed his attention was the making a provision for the public 
debt. He boldly proposed to fund this, and fund it without deduc- 
tion. But, as the original creditors had long since parted with their 
claims, at a depreciated price, it seemed unjust to some, that the 
speculators who had bought up the scrip should be paid off at par. 
At once the country split into two factions on this question. A 
nucleus having been thus formed, the tendency to assimilation in- 
creased, and two great parties gradually grew from this slight 
beginning. One numbered in its ranks those who wished for a strong 
government, the other, those who had desired a weak one. One 
was for a liberal, the other for a strict construction of the Constitu- 
tion. One was for high taxes, a funded debt, a bank, a full dis- 
charge of all obligations ; the other for light imposts, no bank, and a 
discrimination between the original creditor and speculators holding 
his rights. The one found most adherents at the north : the other 
at the south. Both parties were, in the main, honest. At the out- 
set, however, the federalists had the ablest men. But, as the strife 
waxed fiercer, it was found that the latter labored under many dis- 
advantages, fatal to their permanent popularity. The leaders had 
been in the army and were thought to be despotic in their views. 
They had formed the Cincinnati, a society, as at first established, 
having the appearance of a self-constituted aristocracy. They 
openly avowed their leaning towards consolidation. Some were 
60 pp* 



474 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION, 

even thought to desire a monarchy. 'A few, inflated by vanity 
longed for the pomp and display of courts. But they were all, or 
nearly all, honest men. No one has ever raked up, from the ashes 
of expired faction, a single well authenticated charge against the 
integrity of Washington, Marshall, or Jay. 

Their opponents were of less ability, were less known by their 
services, and enjoyed, originally, less of the consideration of their 
fellow men. But they possessed a more ahuring creed. They pro- 
fessed unlimited confidence in the good sense and virtue of the 
people, and were for pushing the experiment of self-government as 
near to a pure democracy as possible. But these opinions had 
never, at that day, been tested by trial ; and men of timorous minds 
shrank from them in fear, especially when they found that, in both 
Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, the people had risen against their 
own laws, passed by their own representatives. The contest be- 
tween the two parties waxed hotter and fiercer. New questions 
became continually involved in the dispute, new subjects of acrimo- 
ny arose, until, in the Presidency of John Adams, when the rebuking 
aspect of Washington was withdrawn, the nation boiled and seethed 
to its lowest depths. Each side viewed the other through a dis- 
torted medium. Misrepresentations abounded. The fever of the 
French Revolution, and the wars growing out of it, infected the 
nation, and tended t« madden the two factions still more. The 
federahsts were declared to be in the British interest -, their oppo- 
nents were charged with selling the country to France. The insults 
of the Directory provoked one ; the haughtiness of England irritated 
the other. A noisy riot, in which some windows were broken, was 
said by the republicans to have been ari abortive attempt at a gene- 
ral massacre of their party ; a street mob, in which men and boys, 
wearing the Jacobin cap, danced around a liberty pole, was cried 
down as the prelude to a Reign of Terror. The republicans were 
said to covet spoliation and anarchy because Jefferson had frater- 
nized with Volney, Barras, Marat and Barere ; the federalists were 
charged with intending a monarchy, because John Adams wore a 
bag and sword, because Callender had been imprisoned for a lib<^l, 
because Washington received company once a week at a levee. 

In this tumultuous ocean of politics Hamilton was a leading ele- 
ment. He had become an ardent advocate for the Constitution the 
moment it had been chosen by the convention, and had contributed 
materially to its adoption by a series of essays since entitled the 
Federalist. On the elevation of Washington to the Presidency, he 
had been selected for the Treasuryship, and had given, as we have 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 475 

seen, the first occasion for the foundation of party by his funding 
system. He and Mr. Jefferson soon came to be considered the 
leaders of the two opposite factions, and frequently, while both were 
members of the Cabinet, it was with difficulty Washington could 
restrain them in his presence. Each, finally, retired to private life, 
bitter political enemies. Yet, when John Adams succeeded to the 
Presidency, Hamilton did not implicitly adopt the creed promulgated 
by that honest, but obstinate, and far less able man. 

On the contrary, he made no secret of his preference in favor of 
Pinckney for the Presidency ; and by so doing, he probably contri- 
buted indirectly to the elevation of Jefferson and Burr. Whatever 
may have been its faults and its virtues, and the time has scarcely 
Gome to canvass them freely, the federal party could scarcely have 
survived much longer than it did ; for there were defects inherent in 
it, as a party seeking popidar favor, which must, sooner or later, 
have produced its downfall, even if it had triumphed in the election 
of 1801. But, on this subject, we shall speak more at length, when 
we come to the biography of Burr. 

In 1798, when a war with France was threatened, and a provi- 
sional army was raised with Washington at its head, Hamilton re- 
ceived the appointment of Inspector-General, and, in a short time, 
carried the organization and discipline of his forces to high perfec- 
tion. On the termination of the dispute with France, he resumed 
his profession. In 1804, he took a conspicuous part in defeating the 
election of Burr for Governor of New York. During the campaign, 
he had publicly expressed Ms want of confidence in the Vice-Presi- 
dent as a politician and a man ; and the latter, fixing on this to re 
venge years of fancied wrong, and certainly injured in position by the 
accusation, challenged him. A duel was the consequence, in which 
Hamilton fell. Impartial history must record the fact that Burr had 
deliberately resolved on the murder of his great rival. Posterity 
will ever regret that Hamilton could be induced on any considera- 
tion to engage in a duel. It was a mode of adjusting differences 
abhorrent to his sense of right, and he seems to have entered on it 
with a presentiment of his fate. 

Thus perished, in the forty-seventh year of his age, one of the 
most remarkable men this country has yet produced. His death 
was followed by almost universal mourning. Even his political 
adversaries, now that the grave had closed over him, forgot their 
differences, and mingled their tears with those of his immediate 
partizaiis and friends. In several of the chief cities of the Union 
funeral orations were pronounced on the occasion. At others the 



476 



THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 



bells tolled and the flags were displayed at half mast. In New 
York, from a stage in the portico of Trinity Church, Governor Mor- 
ris, attended by the four orphan boys of Hamilton, pronounced an 
extemporaneous oration over the remains, interrupted only by the 
sobs of the multitude. How different the obsequies of his great 
rival, Aaron Burr ! 





AARON BURR. 



ARON BURR, a Colonel in the Ameri- 
can army, was born on the 6th of Fe- 
bruary, 1756, in Newark, New Jersey. 
On both the paternal and maternal side 
he was descended from those illustrious 
for talent. His father was a divine of 
celebrity, the President of Princeton 
College. His grandfather was the re- 
nowned Jonathan Edwards, the greatest 
metaphysician since the days of Chillingworth. His mother was 
famed not less for talent than for exemplary piety. With every ad- 
vantage of birth, fortune and education at the opening of hfe. Burr 
was destined, before his death, to become a memorable example of 

477 




478 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

talents abused, opportunities neglected, and a virtuous name coveied 

with obloquy. 

At the age of eighteen Burr entered the army. This was imme- 
diately after the battle of Bunker Hill. His parents being dead, he 
was under the care of a guardian, who sent a messenger to bring 
him back, but Burr, with the headlong and daring nature that belong- 
ed to him so eminently, threatened to have the man hung, unless he 
returned, for tampering with a soldier's duty. He subsequently ac- 
companied Arnold to Canada, in that terrible expedition across the 
wilderness of Maine. He was one of Montgomery's aids, and pre- 
sent at the battle of Quebec, and throughout the whole campaign 
that ensued he conducted himself with so much courage and ability, 
that when he returned to the United States, Washington conferred 
on him the high honor of a post in his family. But even at this 
early day Burr was a profligate in morals, and this becoming known 
to Washington, the Commander-in-chief and his young aid parted, 
on the one side with pitying reproof, on the other with enmity and a 
smothered desire for revenge. Burr now joined the line, where he 
served with credit. But, in a few years, he quitted the army, partly 
from ill-health, partly because he thought himself neglected. Wash- 
ington, to the last, acknowledged the great abiUties of Burr, but, as he 
believed the young Colonel not a man to be trusted. Burr was never 
honored as others were, with any of the marks of his regard. 

Burr now devoted himself to the law, in which profession he rose 
rapidly. He became one of the leaders of the New York bar, was 
made Attorney-General of the commonwealth, and shortly after the 
adoption of the Federal Constitution, was elected a United States 
Senator. As a lawyer he was distinguished for tact rather than for 
erudition. He was expert in all the trickery of the courts. Shrewd, 
persevering, subtle, ever assailing his adversary on points least ex- 
pected, he gained, right or wrong, a large portion of the cases con- 
fided to him. He brought to the bar thatprofligacy of opinion which 
few, besides Washington, had yet detected. His maxim " that the 
aw is whatever is boldly asserted and plausibly maintained," forms 
a key to his principles. His character is admirably illustrated by an 
anecdote current of this period of his life. Burr was employed in a 
great land suit, in which his opponent had all the right on his side. 
On the day of trial, however. Burr trumped up evidence, to the aston- 
.shment of every one, to prove that an old deed, necessary to the chain 
of his antagonist's title, was a forgery. No one had ever before 
called in question the authenticity of the deed, and consequently his 
opponent was unprovided with the necessary testimony. Burr gain- 



AARON BURR. 479 

ed the cause accordingly, and his client lived and died in possession 
of the estate, though two verdicts have since established the authen- 
ticity of the deed and restored the land to its rightful owners. 

As a politician Burr rose rapidly. Affable, munificent, easy of access, 
full of popular arts, he was admirably calculated for success in public life. 
His ascent was so rapid as almost to seem miraculous. First, Attorney 
General of New York, then Senator, in a few years he was Vice-Pre- 
sident, and had barely missed the Presidency itself And this suc- 
cess he owed to his genius for intrigue. We cannot better illustrate 
the character of this extraordinary man than by describing the part 
he played in the election of 1800, when the two great factions which 
then divided the nation, were grappling, in their death struggle. The 
whole story is as strange and fascinating as anything in Arabian 
fiction. 

Burr early foresaw that the result would be determined by the vote, 
of the city of New York. But there existed at that time, an appa- 
ently irreconcilable breach in the republican faction of that place. 
To heal this breach Burr set himself industriously to work. He har- 
monized by his wonderful address the discordant elements, and pro- 
cured the nomination of a legislative ticket agreeable to both divi- 
sions of the party. He was indefatigable day and night ; he wheedled, 
ne cajoled, he made large promises. On the morning of the election he 
met General Hamilton at the polls and argued with him, before the 
people, the great questions on which they differed. Burr triumphed. 
The republicans elected their ticket ; this gave their party a majority 
in the legislature, and as that body then chose the electors, the vote 
of the great state of New York was cast for Jefferson, and was thought 
to decide his elevation to the Presidency. Never before had such a 
triumph been achieved by the genius of one man. 

Congress met. The federalists were sullen and in despair ; the re 
pubhcans could not conceal their extravagant joy. But suddenly a 
discovery was made which changed the emotions of both parties. 
In consequence of a neglect in the customary practice of dropping a 
vote, it was found that Barr would count as high as Jefferson, and 
consequently there being no choice by the people, the election would 
go into the House, where the federalists having the majority, threat- 
ened to elect Burr. 

A more scandalous intrigue, if this were true, was never projected 
The whole country was paralyzed at the intelligence of it. The par 
tizans of Jefferson filled even the remotest towns with their clamors 
of indignation, which grew louder and more threatening as the terri- 
ble ballot that ensued in Congress was protracted from day today. This 



480 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

ballot, by a resolution of both Houses, was to continue without in- 
termission until an election took place. The vote was by states. On 
the first ballot Jefferson had eight, Burr six, and two states were divi- 
ded. Ten were necessary, to a choice. The balloting continued for 
eight days without the variation of a vote. The hall of the House, 
durhig this protracted interval, presented a singular scene. Every 
member was in his 'place. Those who were sick attended in beds: 
rhose who became wearied slept at their desks. Thirty-six ballotings 
had now been taken. Terror and alarm seized on all men's hearts. 
The repubUc seemed to be at the verge of ruin. It was rumored that 
the federahsts intended to prevent an election, choose a Vice-President 
of the Senate, and forcibly hold the government for the next four 
years. If this was attempted, the republicans threatened to rise in 
arms. A meeting was convened at Philadelphia which resolved to 
equip at a moment's notice, march on Washington, and purge the 
House of Representatives. The days of Cromwell seemed about to 
visit us. Every timber of the republic quivered in that ^awful crisis. 
At last the federalists gave way, and Jefferson was elected. 

It was not until some time afterwards that Burr was accused of 
having tampered with the federalists for the office of President. We do 
not believe the chnrge. Not, however, that we think him incapable 
of the act. He was a man so thoroughly reckless of principle, so 
ready to grasp at any and every means of seif-aggrandisement, that 
if he could have believed in the sincerity of the federalists, and been 
certain of their full support in case he made advances, he would have 
promptly come forward and abetted the plot. But Burr knew that 
if he made overtures which proved unsuccessful, he would be ruined 
with both parties : with his own for having betrayed it, with the 
federalists for being their dupe. He therefore stood aloof. In ad- 
dition, he had too much good sense not to foresee that, in case he 
was chosen to the Presidency, all his own party, and the most honest 
of the other, in short, nine-tenths of the community, would execrate 
and desert him. In fact, he hesitated. The federalists themselves 
exonerate him from any active agency in the intrigue ; they gave 
up the struggle, they said, only because they found he would do 
nothing for himself 

But Burr gradually lost the confidence of his party. Jefferson 
ever after mistrusted him. In his own state, the two great famihes 
which then, as of old in patrician Rome, divided the suffrages of the 
republic, resolved on his ruin. At first the charge of having tam- 
pered with the federalists was vaguely hinted. Then it was repeat- 
ed with statements of time, place and person. Soon the administra- 



AARON BUilR. 481 

tion journals took up the accusation : and finally it began to "bo 
spoken of as a matter placed beyond the reach of cavil. For a long 
time, Burr treated the charge with that contemptuous scorn which 
was one of his characteristics. But finally he found himself forced 
to reply. It was then too late. The public ear had been pre-occu- 
pied ; and to this day the belief in his guilt is almost universal with 
the poople. The fact is, his character was found out ; he was 
deemed capable of any baseness ; and he fell from his dizzy eleva- 
tion with a rapidity equal to that of his ascent. 

The duel with Hamilton completed his ruin. As a last throw in 
the political game, Burr had run for Governor of New York, sup- 
ported by a portion of the republican, and the mass of the federal 
party. Hamilton, by lending his influence to the regularly nomi- 
nated democratic candidate, had defeated Burr. The baflled aspirant 
resolved on revenge. Hamilton had expressed, on one occasion, his 
belief that it would be dangerous to confide in the integrity of Burr. 
This was sufficient for that person to fasten a duel on his great rival. 
Burr, resolving to kill Hamilton, as he afterwards admitted to Jeremy 
Bentham when in England, practiced daily with his pistols for a 
week before the meeting. If this was not premeditated murder we 
know not what is. Hamilton fell at the first fire. 

Instantly a storm of indignation was raised throughout the coun- 
try, such as never before had been heard of; men at once pronounced 
the death of Hamilton a virtual assassination ; all parties went into 
mourning for him ; New York and New Jersey each indicted Burr 
for homicide ; and he who had lately traversed the Union amid the 
acclamations of crowds, now skulked from village to village with a 
price set on his head. He went out like Cain, with the brand of 
God upon him. His slow and noiseless step ; his glittering eye ; the 
ready smile on his inscrutable brow, as they are depicted by the 
men of that generation, conjure forcibly up the image of the in 
triguer, the traitor, the assassin. 

He was now a desperate man. His term as Vice-President had 
expired, and his party cast him out with loathing and scorn. His 
fortune was squandered, his business as a lawyer gone. He wan- 
dered for some time over the southern and western states. Ordinary 
men would have yielded, without a further struggle, to fate. But Burr 
inthevastness of his adventurous mind, now conceived a project whose 
magnitude carries the imagination back to the times when Cortez 
plundered the Montezumas, when Pizarro put an Inca to ransom, 
when cities were sacked by the free rovers of the seas. 

Far away to the south-west, a thousand miles beyond the plainer 

61 QQ 



482 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

of Louisiana, lay a vast and wealthy empire, governed by tyrants 
whom the people hated, and defended by troops whom soldiers 
should despise. For centuries the riches of that kingdom had been 
the theme of travellers. Her mines were inexhaustible, and had 
flooded Europe with gold. Her nobles enjoyed the revenues of 
Emperors. Her capital city was said to blaze with jewels. It was 
known to look down on the lake into whose waters the unhappy 
Gautamozin had cast the treasures of that long line of native princes 
of which he was the last. Men dreamed of that magnificent city as 
Aladdin dreamed of his palaces, as Columbus of Cathay. Costly 
statues, vessels of gold and silver, jewels of untold value, troops of 
the fairest Indian girls for slaves, all that the eye delighted in, or the 
heart of man could desire, it was currently declared, would form the 
plunder of Mexico. A bold adventurer, commanding an army of 
Anglo-Saxon soldiers, could possess himself of the empire in less 
than a twelve-month. The times were favorable to the enterprise 
The priesthood throughout Mexico was disaffected, and would 
gladly lend its aid to any conqueror who secured its privileges ; and 
the priesthood then, as now, exercised a paramount influence over 
the weak and superstitious Mexicans. America, too, was thought 
to be on the eve of a Spanish war, when the contemplated expedi- 
tion might easily be fitted out at New Orleans. Burr saw the glit- 
tering prize and resolved to sieze it. He was an outcast in his 
native country, but he would become the ruler of a prouder land. 
He would conquer this gorgeous realm. He would realize in the 
new world, as Napoleon in the old, a dream of romance. He would 
surround his throne with Dukes and Marshals and Princes of the 
empire. The pomp of chivalry, the splendors of the east should be 
revived in his gorgeous court. And when he had founded this 
empire, and girt his throne with these new Paladins, he would look 
back with scorn on the country which had cast him off. And who 
knew what further conquests he might achieve ? Realms equally 
rich, and even more easy of spoil opened to the south, to whose 
conquest his successors, if not himself might aspire. Perhaps nothing 
would check his victorious banner until he had traversed the conti- 
nent, and stood on that bold and stormy promontory where the con- 
tending waters of the Atlantic and Pacific lash around Cape Horn. 

Such were the dreams of Burr. He proceeded at once to realize 
them. He sounded men in high station, and from many met 
encouragement. Oflicers of rank eagerly embraced the enterprise 
politicians of commanding influence united themselves to his party. 
The adventure dazzled young and ardent temperaments. Hundreds 



AARON BXTRR. 483 

neld themselves in readiness to join the expedition as soon as war 
should be declared, and funds were secretly provided in our eastern 
cities to forward this romantic enterprise. In the private paper.* of 
some of our most distinguished famiUes, rests ample evidence of the 
magnitude and brilliancy of this plot. 

It was at this period that Burr met Blennarhassett, an Irish gen- 
tleman of fortune, who had purchased and settled on an island in 
the Ohio river. This little spot bloomed, under his culture, hke the 
enchanted gardens of the Hesperides. Here, surrounded by a lovely 
wife and family, he had passed several years, dividing his time 
between literature and domestic ease. But the fascination of Burr 
soon transmuted the character of his host, until the hitherto quiet 
student was fired with dreams of immortal glory. His mansion 
soon became the rendezvous of the bold spirits whom Burr had 
enlisted in his enterprise ; and the magic of music, united to the 
charms of lovely women, threw a romantic fascination around the 
spot. The coolest minds could not Avithstand the intoxication of 
that moment. Amid the pauses of the dance, the enthusiastic ad- 
venturers talked of the banners, embroidered by fair hands, under 
which they were to march to conquest ; while the softer sex dis- 
cussed, half jestingly, half earnestly, the gay dresses they were to 
rustle at their future court. But to this bewildering dream there 
came a sudden awakening. An arrangement had been made with 
Spain, and the government, apprized of the enterprise of Burr, sent 
its emissaries to arrest him. He fled, and with him, Blennerhassett. 
From that hour the fairy island became a desert. Desolation soon 
brooded over the hearth-stone which the wife and mother had cheered 
with her smiles. A few months elapsed, and the traveller passing 
that island, heard the long grass whistling in the ruins, and saw the 
wild fox look forth from his hole unscared. 

Burr did not, however, abandon his darling scheme. Deserted by 
nine-tenths of his adherents, he still refused to despair, but collecting 
a small body of men began to descend the Ohio. He had purchased 
a tract of land in Louisiana, where he resolved to form a settlement 
which, in time, might become a depot from which to direct an attack 
on Mexico, if a favorable opportunity should occur. But, as he 
proceeded, the country began to be alarmed. Rumors were in cir- 
culation that he intended to dismember the Union by separating the 
south-western states from the rest of the confederacy. At length 
his progress was stopped by the authorities. He was arrested on a 
charge of high treason, and sent to Virginia for trial, under the 
escort of a party of dragoons. 



484 THE HEROES OP THE REVOLUTION. 

The history of this country affords no parallel to the extraordinary 
reverses of fortune which had befallen Burr ; and the mind can dis- 
cover nothing to which to liken it, except in the events of eastern 
story, where, by the same turn of the wheel, the camel-driver rises 
to a monarch, and the sultan sinks to a slave. But a few years 
before, he had been the popular idol, and filhng the second office of 
the nation, hving with the splendor and munificence of a prince: 
now the meanest thief who ( dged the officers of justice in some 
low alley, would* not have bartered situations with him. His adhe- 
rents were scattered to all quarters. Every man thought only of 
saving himself. It was believed that he would be convicted, guilty 
or not guilty ; and, as in all popular tumults, pretended informers 
were not wanting. The public did not stop to enquire into his real 
purposes. One universal voice of reprobation rose up from east to 
west, from north to south, crying out for the blood of the traitor who 
had ventured to plot the dismemberment of his country. His few 
remaining friends bent before the fury of the storm. Even his son- 
in-law, Governor Alston, of South Carolina, shrank from his side in 
this crisis. One individual alone clung to him in this hour of trial : 
need we say it was a woman, the only daughter of the accused ? 

If there is a redeeming feature in the character of Burr, it is to be 
found in his love for that child. Prom her earliest years, he had 
educated her with a care to which we look in vain for a parallel 
among his cotemporaries. She grew up, in consequence, no ordi- 
nary woman. Beautiful beyond most of her sex, accomphshed as 
few females at that day were accomplished, displaying to her family 
and friends a fervor of affection which not even every woman is 
capable of, the character of Theodosia Burr has long been regarded 
almost as we would regard that of a heroine of chivalry. Her love for 
her father partook of the purity of a better world : holy, deep, un- 
changing, it reminds us of the affection which a celestial spirit might 
be supposed to entertain for a parent, cast down from heaven for 
sharing in the sin of the " Son of the Morning.'' No sooner did she 
hear of her father's arrest than she flew to his side. There is nothing 
in human history more touching than the hurried letters, bjotted 
with tears, in which she announced her daily progress to Richmond, 
for she was too weak to travel with the rapidity of the mail ; and 
even the character of Burr borrows a momentary halo from hers 
when we peruse his replies, in which, forgetting his peril, and relax- 
ing the stern front he assumed towards his enemies, he labors only 
to quiet her fears and inspire her with confidence in his acquittaL 
He even writes from his prison in a tone of gaiety, jestingly regret^ 



AARON fitJRR. 485 

ting that his accommodations for her reception are not more elegant. 
Once, and once only, does he melt ; and then it is to tell her, that, 
in the event of the worst, he will die worthy of himself. 

The trial of Burr was an event that struck every imaginative 
mind. The prisoner had h^en the Vice-President of the nation. 
His crime was the most flagrant known to the law. His country 
was the accuser. He was arraigned before the supreme tribunal of 
the nation, and the Judge who presided was the highest dignitary 
of that high court. The magnitude of the charges, the number of 
persons involved in the plot, the former high standing and extraordi- 
nary fortunes of the accused, all these combined had fastened the 
attention of the community on his trial : and, as it progressed, the 
nation stood gazing on in breathless suspense. Never before or 
since has this country witnessed such an array of talent in any pub- 
lic cause. There was the Chief Justice, learned, dignified, incor- 
ruptible. There was Wirt, brilliant and showy, but less known to 
fame then, than he was destined afterwards to become. There was 
Martin, qiiick, keen, armed at all points. There were Hay, Ran- 
dolph, and a host of others, renowned for legal acumen and forensic 
skill. And there, too, was the accused, pre-eminent amid that bright 
array, inferior to none in intellect, superior to all in the magnitude 
of his resources. Never, indeed, did the vast ability of Burr shine 
with more resplendent lustre. He felt the full peril of his situation. 
The stake was life or death. He was arraigned by a powerful foe : 
the executive itself was secretly busy against him : the jury regarded 
him with prejudice. Yet he stood up against this combination of 
dangers cool, ready, stout of heart. He fought every inch of ground 
with a skill and perseverance which resulted in the total rout of his 
foes. . Without adducing a witness for the defence, he suffered his 
case to go to the jury, who acquitted him at once. 

But his country still refused to believe him innocpnt. Though 
stout old Truxton had testified in his favor, though Jackson had 
seen nothing wrong in Burr's project, but agreed to favor it, the 
popular voice continued to regard him as a traitor, whom accident 
alone had prevented from dismembering the Union. But that a 
man of sense and ability should entertain such a notion, relying for 
aid on associates whom he knew would countenance no treason, is 
a preposterous and insane supposition. As he said on his death-bed, 
le might as well have attempted to seize the moon and parcel it out 
among his followers. 

The real secret of the popular belief is to be found in the charac- 
ter of Burr. In him the elements which make great and good men 



486 THE HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

were strangely mixed up with those in which we may suppose the 
spirits of evil to pride themselves. He was brave, affable, munificent, 
of indomitable energy, of signal perseverance. In his own person 
he combined two opposite natures. He was studious but insinua- 
ting, dignified yet seductive. Success did not intoxicate, nor reverses 
dismay him. Turning to the other aspect of his character, these 
great qualities sank into insignificance beside his evil ones. He was 
a profligate in morals, public and private. He was selfish, he was 
artful, a master in dissimulation, treacherous, cold-hearted. What 
Sallust said of Catiline might, with equal propriety, be said of him : 
" cupidus voluptatum glorise cupidior." Subtle, intriguing, full of 
promises, unsparing of means, regardless of consequences, he shot 
upwards in popularity with astonishing velocity ; but, a skeptic in 
honesty, a scorner of all things noble and good, he failed to secure 
the public confidence, and fell headlong from his dizzy eminence. 
Here lies the secret of his ruin ! There was nothing in his character 
to which the great heart of the people could attach itself in love ; 
but they shrank from him in mistrust, as from a cold and glittering 
serpent. 

After his trial Burr went abroad virtually a banished man. He 
was still full of his scheme against the Spanish provinces ; but in 
England he met no encouragement, that nation being engaged in 
the Peninsular war. He afterwards visited France, where his peti- 
tions were equally disregarded, the Emperor being engrossed in the 
continental wars. In Paris his funds failed. He became miserably 
poor. He had no friends to whom to apply, but was forced to bor- 
row, on one occasion, a couple of sous from a cigar woman at a 
corner of the street. 

At last he returned to New York, but in how different a guise 
from the days of his glory. No cannon thundered at his coming, 
no crowds thronged along the quay. Men gazed suspiciously on 
him as he walked along, or crossed the street to avoid him like one 
having the pestilence. But he was not, he thought, wholly desolate. 
His daughter still lived ; his heart yearned to clasp her again to his 
bosom. She left Charleston accordingly to meet him. But though 
more than thirty years have since elapsed, no tidings of the pilot- 
boat in which she sailed have ever been received. Weeks grew 
into months, and months glided into years ; yet her father and hus- 
band watched in vain for her coming. Whether the vessel perished 
by conflagration, whether it foundered in a gale, or whether it was 
taken by pirates, and all on board murdered, will never be known 
until that great day when the deep shall give up its dead. 



AARON BURR. 



487 



It is said this last blow broke the heart of Burr, and that, though 
in public he maintained a proud equanimity, in private tears would 
force themselves down his furrowed cheeks. He lived thirty years 
after this event, but, in his own words, felt severed from the human 
race. He had neither brother, nor sister, nor child, nor lineal de- 
scendant. No man called him by the endearing title of friend. The 
weight of fourscore years was on his brow. He was racked by 
disease.. At last death, so long desired, came, but it found him, it is 
said, in a miserable lodging, and alone. Was there ever such a 
retribution ? 

In the burial place of Princeton College are three graves. Two, 
side by side, are surmounted by marble tablets, recording the virtues 
of those who sleep below, and who died Presidents of that august 
institutiMi. They are the tombs of the father and grandfather of 
Burr. At their feet, and partially between, is a third grave, but 
without headstone, untrimmed, and sunken in. There rests Aaron 
Burr! 




,?^ <*"- 








^-^"^^^^^^^ 




-J-C^'Tl 



/ 



THE 



MILITARY HEROES 



OF THS 



WAK OF 1812: 



vriTH A 



NAERATIVE OF THE WAR, 



BY CHARLES J. PETERSON. 



TEXTII EDITION. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED BY JAMES B. SMITH & CO., 

No. 27 SOUTH SEVENTH STKEET. 
1860. 



TO 



MAJOR-GENERAL WINFIELD SCOTT 



THIS WORK, IS 



KESPECTFULLT DEDICATED 



BY THE AUTHOR 




PREFACE. 



The war of 1812 furnishes little to gratify tlie military 
annalist until he approaches its close. The imbecility of the 
Generals and the nv.mber of their defeats, naturally dispirit an 
author. He feels the subject continually checking him ; and 
is delighted, when the campaign of 1814 opening, affords him 
something beside disgrace and disaster to record. The un- 
promising nature of the subject has prevented any writer of 
ability from taking it up : and hence a good history of the 
War of 1812 is as yet unknown to the language. 

There is no attempt in the following pages to supply this 
deficiency. Indeed such an endeavor would be foreign to the 
purpose of this work. The narrative of the war is but sub- 
ordinate to the main design of the volume, and hence the 
author has contented himself with a mere outline sketch, the 

only merit of which, if he has succeeded in his aim, is in be 
I* 5 



VI 



PREFACE. 



mg authentic and comprehensive. The details of the picture 
are left to be filled up from the Biographies. 

The nature of the theme has forced the author to depart, 
m. a measure, from the plan of his work. There are several 
Generals noticed who have no pretensions to be Heroes ; but 
the story would be incomplete without them. The author 
has not hesitated, however, to express his opinion as to the 
merits of each officer ; and, so far forth, has carried out his 
original design. Whether his opinions are correct must be 
left for impartial criticism to decide. 





CONTENTS. 

PREFACE, -.' Pagb $ 

THE WAR OF 1812. 

PRELIMINARY CHAPTER, 13 

BOOK I. — Ohigin of the Wah, ....... 17 

BOOK II — To THE Sphing of the Year 1814, - - - . - 2© 

BOOK III.— To THE Close of the Coxtest, • - . . . 51 

THE HEROES OF THE WAR OF 1812. 

WiixiAM Hull, ------..^.Yg 

James WiifcHESTEH, - -----».» 81 

Zebttlojt Moktgomert Pikb, ----., .gY 

HeKRT DeARBORIC, ....... .g^ 

JaHES WiLKIKSOK", ......._^gij 

JOHIf AuMSTROIfe, ----.«._ l(yf 

7 



CONTENTS. 

Geouge Croghan-, - - . - . , . p^^^^ jj. 

William Henry Habbisoit, - . - . . . -1J9 

Richard M. JoHxsoif, ------,. 133 

Isaac Shelbt, "------.. 130 

Jacob BRowif, -'■---••«, 141 

Eleazkr W. Riplbx, • - . . . , - ISt 

James Miller, ---•--•., ig" 

Nathan Towsou", -- «. . -- . -17 

Thomas S. Jessup, -----.. I7»i 

Edmund Pendleton Gaiitks, ----«-. nn 

Peter B. Porter, ------», si 

Alexander Macomb, ---.--.. igs 

Samuel Sjiith, - .« „ . __ _ ^ *g, 

Andrew Jackson, - - . . . ,,_ , ^ ^gj 





PRELIMINARY CHAPTER 




HE war of 1812 was the sequel to 

the war of independence. It was the 

offspring of an old hatred, nurtured 

into life by the arrogance of England. 

Those who declaim against the war 

because begun to punish wrongs perpetrated 

^Vhy Great Britain, when outrages nearly as 

''^'^'"^ great on the part of France were overlooked, 

do not understand the question they assume to discuss. Nations, as 

well as men, will endure that from a friend which they will never 

submit to from a foe. England had been hated by the people of the 

" 13 



14 PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 

United States, since the period of the Revolution; while France, 
notwithstanding all her injustice, still possessed their gratitude and 
sympathy. The wonder is, not that the war took place, but that it did 
not happen before. The acknowledgment of our independence had 
been made with a bad grace by Great Britain in 1783, and, as if her ill 
humor was never to be appeased, she continued to treat us with an 
insolence that galled our national pride. The war of 1812 was not 
the work of the President, nor even of his party; but was forced on 
an unwilling cabinet by the popular will. It was a war of the people. 

Dangerous as the war seemed to many at the time 2. single gene- 
ration has established its necessity and wisdom. It is true that, at 
the peace of Ghent, no acknowledgment was obtained from England 
of the injustice of her system of impressment, which was the apparent 
cause for embarking in the contest. But nevertheless all the 
substantial benefits were on our side. We had proved that we were 
not a power to be despised, either on land or sea ; and that nothing 
was to be gained, but everything lost, by persisting in the struggle. 
For the first two years of the strife, our armies had been defeated 
almost universally. This so elated the Prince Regent, that the offer 
to compromise our difficulties, which he would have been glad to 
have accepted in the beginning, he now rejected ; and having just 
closed the protracted struggle with Napoleon, he resolved to inundate 
this country with the veterans of the Peninsula, and chastise us for 
having declared war against England, when she was surrounded with 
foes. Accordingly the campaign of 1814 was opened by the appear- 
ance of a most imposing force in America. The British officers 
boasted that they would conquer, and hold a portion of our territory 
at least ; and even some of our own citizens, arguing from former 
defeats, despaired of the country. 

Two causes conspired to frustrate the calculations of the enemy, 
and make him eager to secure peace on the terms he had rejected. 
The first was that the nation, now seriously alarmed, began to rally in 
earnest for its defence. That spirit of enthusiasm, which had burned so 
brightly in 1 776, again blazed up ; and the whole Union was suddenly 
turned into an armed camp, resounding with the din of preparation. 
The second cause was this, the Generals to whom the command 
of our armies had been committed, during the preceding campaigns, 
had been old revolutionary officers, of respectable standing when 
young, but now utterly exhausted by indolence and age. By the 
close of 1813, however, the army had been thoroughly purged of 
tttese imbecile leaders. A new race of Generals, composed of men 
of spirit, genius and enterprise, had arisen. At the head of these 



PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 15 

Stood Brown. He was one of those individuals who are born War- 
riors. What he wanted in knowledge, he made up in energy, and the 
latter qualification was, just then, of more importance than the former. 
The nation, at this crisis, required a bold man for its leader, one 
not afraid of Itard blows, and who, believing that the American fur- 
nished as good material for a soldier as the Englishman, would never 
decline a combat. Brown was even more than this. He was not 
only willing to meet the British, when his forces were equal to theirs, 
but even when his number were decidedly inferior. He was admirably 
seconded by his subordinates, especially by Scott, who had in a 
measure formed the army, introducing into it the French discipline, 
and changhig by constant drilling, raw recruits into good soldiers. 

The result of the battles of Chippewa, Lundy's Lane and Erie, 
was tt) convince Great Britain that, in the United States, she had 
found an enemy who would gtow more formidable every year. As 
there was nothing to be gained by a contest with such a foe, but on 
the contrary, much blood and treasure to be lost, she became suddenly 
as eager for a peace, as, six months before, she had been indifferent 
to it. These victories taughi our own people the existence of a latent 
aptitude for war among themselves, of which they had never dreamed. 
That the American furnished the best material for the soldier, because 
as robust as others, and more intelligert, was thenceforth no longer 
a heresy to assert. Discipline in the men, and ability in the com- 
mander, was all that was necessary, it was seen, to render victory 
probable, if not certain. 

Since the war of 1812, the United States have held a better position 
among nations than before. Our naval successes over a power that 
was deemed invincible at sea, suddenly awakened the attention of 
Europe to this young giant of the west. The single victory of the 
Constitution over the Guerriere, gained us more respect abroad, 
than could have been attained by a long career of the most brilliant 
successes in the arts of peace. The manner in which that triumph 
was followed up, made a profound impression on the public mind on 
the continent. Since the treaty of Ghent, our flag has been treated 
with marked deference in foreign ports. The dazzling exploits on 
land, with which we closed the contest, had their eftect also in revo- 
hitionizmg opinions abroad. Prior to the war of 1812, we ranked in 
Europe, as a fourth-rate power only ; but snice then, the position of a 
second-rate one has been freely conceded to us. We have, it is true, 
aspired to be considered one of the first powers in the world; and 
though this is not pretence in 1848, it was so, perhaps, in 1815. We 
advance, indeed, with steps that find no parallel in history. Wlthui 



16 



PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 



the last thirty years, we have passed from youth to manhood, 
as hi the thirty preceding years we grew from infancy to adolescence. 
What was exaggeration for our fathers to assert, becomes, therefore, 
less than the truth in us. 

It shall be our purpose to narrate, in a rapid manner, the events 
of the war of 1812, which exercised such an influence on the charac- 
ter, genius ana aevelopment of this nation. 





BOOK I. 



ORIGIN OP THE WAR. 



HE war of 1812 naturally divide* 
itself into three great periods. The 
first embraces the origin of the 
war. This will necessarily con- 
tain a review of the conduct of 
Great Britain towards the United States, 
from the peace of 1783, to the declaration 
of hostilities on the 19th of June, 1812, 
comprise an account of the celebrated 
Berhn and Milan decrees, and of the Bri- 
tish orders in council ; and furnish a narrative of the origin, exercise, 
and perversion of the ciann' of England to impress seamen. The 
second opens with the surrender of Detroit ; records the failure of 
Harrison's winter and autumnal campaigns in 1812 ; and explains 
3he miscarriages of Dearborn, Wilkmson and Hampton, on the Lakes 
and St. Lawrence, during the spring, summer and autumn of 1813. 
This was a period of almost universal defeat for the armies of the 
II* 2 17 




18 ORIGIN OP THE WAR. 

United States. Inefficient Generals and undisciplined troops united 
to cover the nation with disgrace. During this interval the Creek 
war in the south occurred. But for some brilliant successes at sea, 
and for the victory of the Thames in October, lS13,these first twenty- 
months of the contest would have presented only unmitigated disas- 
ter. The third and last period opened in the spring of 1814, with 
the most gloomy anticipations. The subjugation of Napoleon had 
left England free to employ all her strength against the United States. 
The veteran troops of Wellington were accordingly poured into Ca- 
nada. Boasts of permanently annexing a portion of New York, or 
of New England, to the British dominions were publicly made by 
the English officers. But suddenly the scene changed. These splen- 
did veterans were defeated in every contest, by our comparatively 
raw troops. Instead of gaining a foothold in the United States the 
enemy was everywhere beaten on his own soil. These results pro- 
ceeded from placing bolder and younger men in command of the 
army ; from disciplining the troops thoroughly ; and from the spirit 
of patriotism which was now fully aroused to meet the impending 
crisis. From this hour the arms of the United States were in the 
ascendant. Success bad at first receded from us further and still fur- 
ther, like a wave withdrawing from a beach ; but suddenly the tide 
turned, it rolled in, and towering higher and prouder, broke over us 
in triumphs. 

The peace of 1783 had been extorted by the necessities rather than 
obtained by the good will of England. Though, by a formal treaty, 
the United States were declared free and independent, they were still 
hated in Great Britain as rebellious colonies. That such was the 
general opinion is manifest from the letters of John Adams, our first 
minister to the court of St. James, and from other authentic cotem- 
porary accounts. Of course there were a few men of sufficiently en- 
larged and comprehensive minds to forget the past, and urge, even 
in parKament, that the trade of America would be more valuable as 
an ally than a dependent. But the number of these v/as small in- 
deed. The common sentiment in England towards the young repub- 
lic was one of scornful detestation. We were despised as provin- 
cials, we were hated as rebels. • In the permanency of our institutions 
there was scarcely a believer in all Britain. This was especially the 
case prior to the adoption of the Federal Constitution. Both in par- 
liament and out, it was publicly boasted that the Union would eoon 
fall to pieces, and that, finding their inability to govern themselves, 
the different states would, one by one, supplicate to be received back 
as colonies. This vain and empty expectation long lingered in the 



ORIGIN OP THE WAR. * 19 

popular mind, and was not wholly eradicated until after the war of 
1812. 

Hence the new republic was treated with arrogant contempt. One 
of the first acts, of John Adams, as minister to England, had been to 
propose placing the navigation and trade between the dominions 
of Great Britain and the territories of the United States, on a basis 
of complete reciprocity. By acceding to such a measure England 
might have gained much, and could have lost but little. The propo- 
sal was reiected almost with terms of insult, and Mr. Adams 
told " that no other would be entertained." The consequences were 
that the free negroes of Jamaica, and others of the poorer inhabitants 
of the British West India Islands, were reduced to starvation by be- 
ing deprived of their usual supplies from the United States. This 
policy on the part of England naturally exasperated the Americans, 
and one of the first acts of the Federal government in 1789, was to 
adopt retaliatory measures. A navigation law was passed, which 
has since been the foundation of all our treaties of reciprocity with 
England. A tariff was also adopted as another means of retaliation. 
We have lived to see Great Britain become the first to tire of re- 
strictive measures, and, by a repeal on her part, invite a repeal on 
ours. 

In another way Great Britain exasperated the popular feeling here 
against her, and even forced the American government, once or twice, 
to the verge of war. By the treaty of peace, all military posts held 
by England within the hmits of the United States, were to be given 
up ; yet no less than six of this character, Michilimackinac, Detroit, 
Oswegotche, Point au Fer, and Dutchman's Point, were long held in 
defiance of the compact. These posts were made the centres of 
intrigue among the savages of the northwest. Arms were here dis- 
tributed to the Indians, and disturbances on our frontier fomented. 
The war on the Miami, which was brought to a bloody close by 
Wayne's victory, was the result principally of such secret machina- 
tions. In short, England regarded the treaty of 1783 as a truce, 
rather than a pacification, and long held to the hope of being able 
yet tu punish the revolted colonies for their rebellion. In two celebra- 
ted letters written by John Adams from Great Britain, he uses the fol- 
lowing decided language in reference to the secret designs of England : 
" If she can bind Holland in her shackles, and France from internal 
dissensions is unable to interfere, she will make war immediately 
against us." This was in 1787. Two years before, he had expresed 
the same ideas. " Their present system, as far as I can penetrate it," 
he wrote, '« is to maintain a determined peace with all Europe, in 



to OKIGIN 01* THE WAH. 

order tnat they may war singly against America, if they should think 
it necessary." A sentiment of such relentless hostility, which no at- 
tempt was made to disguise, but which was even arrogantly paraded 
on every occasion, could not fail to exasperate those feelings of dis- 
like on the part of America, which protracted war had engendered. 
This mutual hatred between the two nations arose from the enmity of 
"the people rather than of the cabinets. " There is too much reason to 
believe," wrote our minister, " that if the nation bad another hundred 
million to spend, they would soon force the ministry into a war 
against us." On the side of the United States it required all the pru- 
dence of Washington, sustained by his hold on the affections of the 
people, to restrain them from a war with England, after that power 
had refused to surrender the military posts. 

A third element of discord arose when England joined the coali- 
tion against France in 1793. The course which the former had pur- 
sued for the preceding ten years, had, as we have seen, tended to 
ahenate the people of America from her, and nourish sentiments of 
hostility in their bosoms. On the other hand, France, with that ad- 
dress for which she is eminent, had labored to heighten the good feel- 
ings already existing between herself and the United States. A treaty 
of alliance and commerce bound the two countries ; but the courteous 
demeanor of France cemented us to her by still stronger ties, those 
of the popular will. When, therefore, the revolution broke out in 
Paris, the enthusiasm of America towards France could scarcely be 
controlled. There can be no doubt that, if the subsequent excesses 
had not alarmed all prudent friends of liberty, the people of this 
country could not have been restrained from engaging in the strug- 
gle between France and England. But the Reign of Terror, backed 
by the insolence of Genet, the minister of the French republic, and 
afterwards by the exactions of the Directory, checked the headlong 
enthusiasm that otherwise would have embroiled us in the terrible 
wars of that period. A course of strict neutrality had been selected 
by Washington, as that which was most proper for the still weak con- 
federacy ; and every day produced events which showed the wis- 
dom of this decision. Neither Great Britain nor France, however, 
was gratified by this neutrality. Each nation wished to embark us 
on their side ; and both grew arrogant and insulting as they found 
our resolution was not to be broken. Napoleon, on the part of 
France, saw the impohcy of such treatment, and when he became 
First Consul, hastened to abandon it. But England relaxed nothing, 
or little. Circumstances, moreover, made her conduct practically 
more irritating than that of France ; and hence prolonged and iric 



ORIGIN OP THE WAR. 21 

creased the exasperation felt toward her in America. We allude to 
the restrictions attempted to be placed on our commerce, and to the 
practice of impressing seamen found on board vessels sailing under 
the flag of the United States. 

As a great naval power, the policy of England has been to main 
tain. certain maritime laws, which her jurists claim to be part of the 
cod 3 of nations, and enforce in her admiralty courts. One principle 
of these laws isthis, that warlike munitions become contraband in war; 
in other words that a neutral vessel cannot carry such into the ene- 
my's ports. Hence, if a vessel, sailing under the flag of the United 
States, should be captured on the high seas, bound for France, dur- 
ing the prevalence of a war between that power and England, and 
be found to be laden with ship-timber, gunpowder, or other manufac- 
tured or unmanufactured articles for warlike purposes, the vessel 
would, by the law of nations, become a prize to the captors. The 
right to condemn a ship carrying such contraband goods, has always 
been recognized by civilized nations, and indeed is founded in com- 
mon justice. But England having supreme control at sea, and 
being tempted by the hope of destroying the sinews of her adversa- 
ry's strength, resolved to stretch this rule so as to embrace provisions, 
as well as munitions of war. She proceeded, however, gradually to 
her point. She first issued an order, on the 8th of June, 1793, for 
capturing and bringing into port " all vessels laden, wholly or in part, 
with corn, flour, or meal, and destined to France, or to other coun- 
tries, if occupied by the arms of that nation." Such vessels indeed 
were not to be condemned, nor their cargoes seized ; but the latter 
were to be purchased on behalf of the English government ; or if 
not, then the vessels, on giving due security, were to be allowed to 
proceed to any neutral port. Of course the price of provisions in 
France and in England was materially different, and a lucrative 
traffic for the United States was, in this way, destroyed. Moreover, 
this proceeding was a comparative novelty in the law of nations, 
and however it might suit the purposes of Great Britain, was a gross 
outrage on America. In November of the same year it was follow- 
ed by a still more glaring infraction of the rights of neutrals, in an 
order, condemning to " capture and adjudication all vessels laden 
with the produce of any French colony, or with supplies for such co- 
lony." The fermentation in consequence of this order rose to such 
a height in America that it required all the skill of Washington to 
avert a war. The President, however, determining to preserve 
peace if possible, despatched Jay to London as a Minister Plenipo- 
tentiary, by whose frank explanations redress was obtained in a mea 



22 ORIGIN OP THE WAR. 

sure for the past, and a treaty negotiated ; not indeed adequate to jus 
tice, but better than could be obtained again, when it expired in 
1S06. 

But the relaxation in the rigor of the order of November, 1793, 
soon proved to be more nominal than real ; and from 1794 until the 
peace of Amiens in 1802, the commerce of the United States conti- 
nued to be the prey of British cruizers and privateers. After the re- 
newal of the war, the fury of the belligerants increased, and with it 
the stringent measures adopted by Napoleon and Great Britain. The 
French Emperor, boldly avowing his intention to crush England, 
forbade by a series of decrees, issued from Berlin, Milan, and Ram- 
bouiUet, tie importation of her commodities into any port of Europe 
under his control ; and England, equally sweeping in her acts, de- 
clared all such ports in a state of blockade, thus rendering any neu- 
tral vessel liable to capture, which should attempt to enter them. 
The legality of a blockade where there is not a naval power off 
the coast competent to maintain such blockade, has always been de- 
nied by the lesser maritime powers. Its effect, in the present in- 
stance, was virtually to exclude the United States from foreign com- 
merce. In these extreme measures Napoleon and England were 
equally to be censured ; but the policy of the former did not affect 
us, while that of the latter did. Hence the exasperation against the 
one was extreme, and pervaded the whole community ; that against 
the other was slighter, and confined only to the more intelligent. In 
point of time. Napoleon was the first to begin these outrages on the 
rights of neutrals; but his injustice wp.s practically felt only on 
land ; while England was the first to introduce the paper blockade, 
a measure ruinous to American merchants. This was done finally 
on the 16th of May, 1806, Y\^hen Great Britain announced a "block- 
ade of the coast, rivers and ports, from the river Elbe to the port of 
Brest, inclusive.'' On the 21st of November, of the same year. Na- 
poleon, in retahation, issued a decree from Berlin, placing the British 
islands in a state of blockade. This decree was followed by a still 
more stringent order in council on the part of England. 

It now became necessary for the United States, either to embark 
in a war or to withdraw her commerce altogether from the ocean. 
The popular voice demanded the former course. Though France, 
in the abstract, was as unjust as England, her oppressive measures 
did not, as we have said, affect America, arid hence the indignation 
of the people was directed principally against Great Britain. But 
with the President it was different. Though the sympathies of Jef- 
ferson were all with France, his judgment was against her as well as 



ORIGIN or THE WAR. 23 

England. Besides he was determined to preserve peace at all hazards, 
for it was his favorite maxim that the best war is more fatal than 
the worst peace. A further reason led him to refuse the alternative 
of war. He was not without hope that one or both of the belUge- 
rants would return to reason, and repeal their obnoxious acts, if the 
conduct of the United States, instead of being aggressive, should be 
patient. Actuated by these views, the President recommended to 
Congress the passage of an embargo act. This law passed in Decem- 
ber, 1S07. By it ail American vessels abroad were called home, 
and those in the United States prohibited from leaving port. In con- 
sequence of this measure, the commerce of the country was annihi- 
lated in an hour ; and harbors, once flourishing, became soon only 
receptacles for rotting ships. There can be no question now that the 
embargo was a fatal blunder. It crippled our resources for the war 
that ensued ; made the eastern states bitterly hostile to Jefierson's, as 
well as to his successor's administration ; and tended to foster in the 
minds of the populace at large, an idea that we shrank from a con- 
test with Great Britain in consequence of inherent weakness. 

But there was a fourth and last source of exasperation against 
England, Avliich assisied, more than all the rest, to produce the war 
of 1812. We allude to the British claim of the right of impressment. 
In the terrible struggles in which England found herself engaged 
with France, her maritime force vv-as her chief dependence, and 
accordingly she increased the number of her ships unprecedent- 
edly. But it soon became difficult to man all these vessels. The 
thriving commerce pursued by the United States, as early as 1793, 
drew large numbers of English seamen into our mercantile marine, 
where they obtained higher vv^ages than in the navy at home. Great 
Britain saw this, and resolved to apply a remedy. By the fiction of 
her law, a man born an English subject can never throw off" his al- 
legiance. She determined accordingly to seize her seamen wherever 
found; and force them to serve their native flag. In consequence her 
cruize rs stepped every American vessel they met, and searched the 
crew in order to reclaim the English, Scotch, or Irish on board. Fre- 
quently it happened that persons born in America were taken as 
British subjects ; for where the boarding officer was the judge of a 
man's nationality, there was little chance of justice, especiaUy if the 
seaman was a promising one, or the officer's ship was short-handed. 
In nine months, during parts of the years 1796 and 1797, the Ame- 
rican minister at the court of London had made application for the 
discharge of two hundred and seventy-one native born Americans, 
proved to have been 'hus impressed. These outrages against personal 



24 ORIGIN OF THE WAR. 

independence were regarded among the people of America with the 
utmost indignation. There was something in such injuries to exas- 
perate every sentiment of the soul. That an innocent man, peaca- 
bly pursuing an honorable vocation, should be forcibly carried on 
board a British man-of-war, and there compelled to remain, shut out 
from all hope of ever seeing his family, seemed, to the robust sense 
of justice in the popular breast, little better than Algerine bondage. 
The rage of the people was increased by tales of horror and aggres- 
sion that occasionally reached their ears from these prison ships. 
Stories were tL)ld of men who had escaped, and being captured and 
taken back, were whipped until they died. In one instance, it was 
said that a sailor, goaded to madness, had seized the captain, and 
springing overboard, been drowned with his oppressor. Whether 
true or not, this and other narratives as horrible, were freely dissem- 
inated, and tended, at last, to raise the popular feeling to a pitch of 
inconceivable exasperation. 

Every attempt to arrange this difficulty with England had signal- 
ly failed. The United States offered that all American seamen should 
be registered and provided with a certificate of citizenship ; that the 
number of a crew should be limited by the tonnage of the ship, and 
that if this number was exceeded, British subjects enlisted should be 
liable to impressment ; that deserters should be given up ; and that 
a prohibition should be issued by each party against clandestinely 
secreting and carrying off the seamen of the other. In 1800, and 
again in 1806, it was attempted to form treaties in reference to this 
subject ; but the pertinacity with which England adhered to her 
claim frustrated these eiforts. In 1803 the difficulty had nearly been 
adjusted by a convention, for Great Britain offered to abandon her 
claim to impressment on the high seas, if allowed to retain it on the 
narrow seas, or those immediately surrounding her island. But, this 
being rejected as inadmissible by the United States, all subsequent 
efforts at an arrangement proved abortive. The impressment of 
seamen continued, and was the source of daily increasing abuse. 
Not only Americans, but Danes, Swedes, Germans, Russians, French- 
men, Spaniards and Portuguese were seized and forcibly carried off 
by British men-of-war. There are even well attested instances of 
Asiatics and Africans being thus impressed. In short, as the war in 
Europe approached its climax, seamen became more scarce in the 
British navy, and all decency being thrown off, crews were filled up 
under color of this claim, regardless even of the shew of justice. In 
1811, it was computed that the number of men impressed from th? 
American marme amounted to not less than six thousand. 



ORIGIN OP THE WAR. 



2^ 



At last the arrogance of the British naval officers rose to such an 
extreme, that one of our national vessels, the frigate Chesapeake, 
was forcibly boarded and several men impressed from her decks. 
The circumstances were these. In the spring of 1807, the British 
ConsM. a:; Norfolk sent to Captain Decatur, requiring him to surren- 
isr t\r):i j?3amen who had deserted from the Enghsh ship Melam- 
pus, and enlisted in the navy of the United States. The demand was 
refused, the men being found, on enquiry, to be citizens of the Uni- 
ted States. Subsequently, the American frigate Chesapeake sailed 
with these men on board, but was pursued by the British ship Leo- 
pard, fired into, and when she hauled down her flag, boarded, and 
the three men, together with another, taken from her deck. The 
Chesapeake was in no condition to resist, having gone to sna with- 
out suitable preparation, and the only gun discharged from her was 
fired by a coal brought from the galley. Before she struck, three of 
her men were killed and eighteen wounded. The news of (his out- 




THK CHBSAPEAKS AND LEOPAHD 



rage excited universal resentment in the United States. The Presi 
dent issued a proclamation forbidding all communication with Bri 
ish armed vessels, unless in distress, or bearing despatches ; and ia 
terdicting British vessels from the harbors and waters of the United 
in 



26 ORIGIN OF THE WAR. 

States. One hundred thousand men were ordered to hold themselves 
in readiness for war, and a special session of Congress was called to 
meet on the 26th of October. Meantime, however, the outrage was' 
disavowed by the British government, and here the difficulty was 
allowed to rest. But it was subsequently noticed that the offenders, 
instead of being censured in England, were treated with undiminish- 
ed favor by their government ; and this, sinking deep into the po- 
pular mind in America, created general exasperation, and increased 
the prevailing distrust in Great Britain. Already the people were 
prepared for war ; it was only the government that held back. 
There was no period, from 1807 to 1812, when a declaration of war 
w-ould not have been received with favor by the community at 
large ; and there were moments during that interval, when such a 
declaration would, perhaps, have been more generally popular than 
it was in 1812. This is especially true of the period between the 
outrage on the Chesapeake and the passage of the embargo act. 

Having thus traced the growth of that popular sentiment which 
rendered war, sooner or later inevitable, let us proceed to enquire 
into the manner in which it was at last brought about. For there 
is a wide distinction between the real and ostensible causes of a war, 
it being a rare thing for national contests to be undertaken without 
deeper reasons than are apparent on the surface. Thus, the peace 
of Amiens was broken, for the pretext that the British refused to 
evacuate Malta ; the war was, in truth, renewed because Napoleon 
and England v/ere filled with mutual distrust. So, the usual 
reasons given for the war of 1812, are comparatively weak, far 
weaker than those which could have been urged in favor of a war 
in 1807. The real secret was, that the people wanted a war, and 
would not longer be denied. In 1815, when the popular indignation 
had vented itself, peace was as welcome as war had been three years 
before. It has been thought strange that the treaty of Ghent over- 
looked some of the points, to obtain which the war was expressly- 
undertaken ; but this view of the case explains the mystery. The 
practical result of the contest had been to teach England respect for 
the United States ; to break the charm of her naval invincibility : 
and virtually to protect our seamen, in future, from impressment. Tho 
popular will was satisfied by the victories of Hull, Decatur and Stew- 
art, at sea ; and by those of Chippewa, the Thames and Nevv^ Orleans, 
on land. The people looked less at the treaty, than at these triumphs. 

Meantime, we return to the thread of events. In December, 1807, 
as already stated, the embargo act was passed. But the pressure of 
this law was found to be so severe on all classes of the community, 
sthat, in March, 1809, it was repealed, and a non-importation act as 



ORIGIN OP THE WAR. ^T 

to England and France, substituted. By this new law, all voyages to 
the French and British dominions were prohibited, and all trade in 
larticles of British and French product or manufacture: and power 
was vested in the President, in case either or both of the belligerants 
should revoke their edicts, so as no longer to violate the neutral com- 
merce of the United States, to issue a proclamation repeaUng the pro- 
visions of the new importation act as to one, or both. In conse- 
quence of this, France on the 1st of November, 1810, exempted the 
United States from the operation of the Berlin and Milan decrees. 
England, however, still refused to repeal her orders in council, alle- 
ging that France must first revoke her edicts absolutely. To this the 
American government repUed that it had no right to dictate to Na- 
poleon what his conduct to other nations should be, and that, since 
he had offered justice to the United States, there was no further cause 
of complaint against him on her part. The 3rd of March, 1811, had 
been fixed as the limit of time, at which the beUigerants were to re- 
voke their aggressive laws, or take the chances of a war ; but anxious 
to preserve peace, Mr. Madison procured the passage of an act, by 
which Great Britain was allowed a further period of delay. This 
last act of conciliation proved as useless as preceding ones, and the 
American government began finally to despair. Had its patience, 
however, continued for a few months longer, the war might have 
been averted, at least for a time. But an incident occurred at this 
crisis, which, by giving a new impetus to the popular rage, hurried 
the cabinet into hostilities, at the very moment when England was 
about to relax her orders. We allude to the discovery of an intrigue 
for the separation of the New England States from the Union, car- 
ried on by an Englishman, named John Henry, professing to be 
a secret agent of Great Britain. 

This individual had been employed in 1809, by Sir James Craig, 
Governor-General of Canada. He had visited Boston, where he 
moved in the best circles, and was known for his quiet and gentle- 
manly, but reserved demeanor. In February, 1812, he communi- 
cated to the President of the United States the nature of his mission, 
in consideration of receiving for the disclosure, the sum of fifty 
thousand dollars, from the secret service fund. The money was 
paid, the papers received by Mr. Madison, and then Henry, before 
the documents Avere published, sailed for Europe. His papers 
proved that the Governor-General of Canada, misled by the opposi- 
tion of a portion of the New England States to the measures of the 
general government, had conceived that a dissolution of the Union 
was at hand ; and had sent Henry to Boston to ascertain how far, iu 
such an event, England would be looked to for aid, and to what ex 



tS ORIGIN OP THE WAR. 

tent the withdrawing states would enter into connexion with her 
This idea of a dissolution, regarded as so visionary in the United 
States, had, as we have seen, long been a favorite one in England. 
Henry soon found, however, that a separation from the Union was 
not the intention of New England. On his return to Canada, Sir 
James Craig refused to remunerate him. Henry accordingly be- 
trayed his employers, and sold his information to Mr. Madison. It 
has been urged that his conduct destroyed the validity of his testi- 
mony ; and there is some force in the argument ; but, on the whole, there 
appears no good reason to doubt the fact of his mission, or its purport. 

The nation, on learning this intrigue, became doubly exasperated 
against England ; and loudly demanded war. The great commer- 
cial cities, the Middle States, and the West, were foremost in this 
burst of mingled enthusiasm, passion and patriotism. The New 
England States, however, resisted the torrent. But the majority 
of the people were no longer to be denied the revenge for which 
they had so long thirsted. Beyond the Alleghanies the sentiment in 
favor of the war was universal. This was, in part, the result of the 
threatening aspect of the Indians, who were believed to have been 
secretly instigated to hostility by the British. While the public feel- 
ing was in this excited condition, despatches were received from 
Europe, announcing the continued refusal of England to revoke her 
edicts. The President immediately acquainted Congress with this 
fact, and that body, after an animated debate, declared war against 
the united kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland. The bill, declar- 
ing war, passed the House of Representatives, on the 4th of June, 
1812, by a majority of thirty in one hundred and twenty-eight votes. 
In the Senate nineteen voted for it, and thirteen against it. On the 
18th of June, it was signed by the President ; and on the 19th pub- 
licly proclaimed. Four days later, the British ministry withdrew 
conditionally their objectionable orders in council, of January, 1807, 
and April, 1809. But, when the news of this event reached America, 
hostilities had already begun. The peace offering had come too late. 

The army with which Congress proposed to begin this war, 
amounted, on paper, to thirty-five thousand men : but as twenty-five 
thousand of this number had been authorized only in January, the 
real force enrolled was probably less than fifteen thousand. The 
services of fifty thousand volunteers, in addition, however, were or- 
dered to be accepted ; and the President was empowered to call on 
the States for militia to the number of one hundred thousand, if 
necessary. In all these preparations the force was more apparent than 
real : and sagacious minds foresaw that, until a large disciplined 
army was in the field, defeat would probably be our portion ! 




S\H^^^^^^^^^^^§?^g^^^if/^c^ 



BAitLfc: OF TIPPECANOE. 



BOOK II. 



TO THE SPRING OF THE TEAR 1814 




HE war of 1812 was preceded 
by an ominous demonstration on 
the north-western frontier Se- 
cretly instigated by the Enghsh, 
the savages, as early as 1811, 
Jhad conceived the idea of forming an exten- 
^sive league to crush the power of the United 
States. The existence of some such hostile 
movement became suspected by the admin- 
istration, in consequence of the murders and 
other outrages perpetrated by the Indians ; and accordingly General 
William Henry Harrison, at that time Governor of the territory of 
Indiana, was ordered, at the head of a competent force of regulars 
and militia, to enter the hostile country and obtain redress for these 
injuries. Harrison arrived at the chief town of the enemy, on the 




III' 



29 



so BATTLE OP TIPPECANOE. 

6tli November, 1811. Tecumseh, the leader in the conspiracy, was 
absent, but his brother, the Prophet, who was possessed of equal, if 
not superior influence, sent messengers to meet the American Gene- 
ral, and promise that, on the ensuing morning, an amicable adjust- 
ment of all difficulties should be made. Harrison, in consequence, 
encamped peaceably for the night ; but aware of the treachery of the 
Indian character, chose the strongest position afforded by the neigh- 
borhood, and ordered his men to rest upon their arms. These pre- 
cautions alone saved him from massacre ; for in the night the sav- 
ages assailed him. The contest was long and bloody. But finally, 
discipline triumphed, and the Indians were repulsed. The loss on 
both sides was severe. The Americans suffered, in killed and 
wounded, one hundred and eighty-eight ; the enemy one hundred 
and fifty. On the 9th of November, Harrison burned the village, 
and devastated the surrounding country, after which he returned 
home. This battle is known as that of Tippecanoe, from the name 
of the Prophet's town. It produced such a wholesome fear of the 
American arms that the Indians in the vicinity generally sued for 
peace. 

In order to follow up this blow if necessary, the government raised 
an army and placed it under the command of General William Hull, 
Governor of Michigan territory. The probability of a war was also 
considered in enlisting this force, for in case of such an event, the 
presence of an army in the north-west, would give the United States 
the opportunity of striking the first blow. Accordingly, in the month 
of April, 1812, the Governor of Ohio was ordered by the President, 
to call out twelve hundred men. The success at Tippecanoe, and 
the general enthusiasm for a war promptly filled the requisition. 
This temporary force assembled at Dayton, Ohio, on the 25th of 
April, 1812. Uniting with the fourth United States infantry, and por- 
tions of other regular regiments, the whole marched upon Detroit. 
The liitle army was compelled to traverse a dense wilderness for 
nearly two hundred miles, and consequently did not reach its desti- 
nation until the 5th of July. Meantime, war had been declared. 
But by some unaccountable mistake in the department at Washing- 
ton, the intelligence was allowed to reach the British posts in the 
north-west, before it was transmitted to the American commander. 
This oversight led to the capture of a portion of Hull's baggage, 
which he had sent by water to Detroit, without a sufficient guard. 

On the 12th of July the army crossed into the British territory, dis- 
cretionary powers having been vested in Hull to invade Canada in 
the event of a war. A vaunting proclamation was issued, addressed 



THE FALL OP MACKINAW. 31 

to the inhabitants, many of whom, in consequence, joined the inva- 
ders. Parties were now sent out into the pountry, which was found 
to be fertile and well cultivated. A detachment, under Colonels Cass 
and Miller, marched towards Maiden, a British post, situated at the 
confluence of the Detroit river and lake Erie, about thirteen miles 
from Sandwich, where Hull was encamped. The enemy was met 
at a bridge over the Canard river and driven in confusion back on 
Maiden. Had Cass and Miller been supported, the fortress m.ust 
have fallen, for it was in no condition to resist a vigorous assault j 
but Hull refused to sustain his subordinates, and the reconnoitering 
party was withdrawn to the camp. 

In fact Hall, from indecision of character, was unfit for his command. 
After he had made his first vigorous effort, and once entered Canada, 
he sunk into idleness. The intelligence of the fall of Mackinaw, which 
was surprised by the er .my on the 17th of July, filled him with vague 
apprehensions, which were increased vv^hen he came to reflect on the 
distance that his supplies had to be brought from Ohio, and the dif- 
ficulty of transportation. A detachment of hostile Indians, in a few 
days, crossing the Detroit, cut ofl' the communications ; and a small 
force sent out to open the route, was surprised and defeated by the 
savages. This event increased the alarm of Hull. Stimulated by 
his younger officers, he had at last begun his preparations for an ad- 
vance ; but now, abandoning all present thought of reducing JNTal- 
den, be retreated across the river, and established himself at Detroit. 
This WcS on the 8th of August. On the same day a detachment, six 
hundred strong, commanded by Colonel Miller, was sent to open the 
communications. This force met and conquered a combined body 
of British and Indians, with a loss to the Americans of seventy, that 
of the enemy being probably a hundred. A severe storm of rain and 
the care of the wounded compelled Colonel Miller, however, to re- 
turn subsequently to Detroit. A third attempt to open the commu- 
ifications was made on the 14th of August, by a body of three hun- 
dred picked men, under the command of Colonels Cass and M'Ar- 
thur; but this eflbrt proving as unsuccessful as the former ones, the 
detachment returned to camp, two days later, where it found, to the 
inconceivable chagrin of its officers and men, that Hull had surren- 
dered, and that it was included in the capitulation. 

On the day that Cass and M' Arthur had left Detroit, the British, 
who had advanced as Hull retreated, began to erect batteries on the 
shore at Sandwich, opposite the American camp. General BrocK, 
who commanded the enemy's forces, was as remarkable for energy as 
Hull for inefficiency. He had gained a thorough insight, moreover, 



S9 SURRENDER OP DETROIT. 

into the character of his adversary, and knew the American leader 
to be possessed with a secret fear of the British invincibiUty. Ac- 
cordingly, on the 15th of of August, Brock summoned Hull to sur- 
render, intimating that, in the event of a refusal, he should assault 
Detroit, when he would not be answerable for the conduct of the Irx- 
dians. Hull at first rejected the proposal of a capitulation with 
scorn. Brock proceeded, in consequence, to open his batteries. The 
bombardment was continued until towards midnight, and resumed 
on the following morning, when the British, with their savage allies, 
were seen advancing to the assault, having crossed during the nigh'c. 
At this spectacle, Hull's resolution deserted him. He ordered a 
white flag to be displayed, and a parley ensuing, terms of capitula- 
tion Avere speedily arranged. By this disgraceful compact, Fort De- 
troit, with its garrison and all the public stores and arms were sur- 
rendered. Even the detachment of M' Arthur and Cass was included 
m the arrangement. The volunteers and militia were allowed to re- 
turn home, on condition of not serving again until exchanged. Thir- 
ty-three pieces of artillery were surrendered on this occasion ; among 
them, several brass pieces captured from Burgoyne in the war of In- 
dependence. Twenty-five hundred muskets and rifles likewise fell 
into the hands of the enemy. This capitulation was received with 
rage when announced to the troops. The consternation and anger 
which it awakened in the United States was unparalleled. Hull was 
everywhere accused of cowardice, and, in some quarters, even of 
treason. On his exchange, he was tried by a court-martial, found 
guilty of cowardice and conduct unbecoming an officer, and sentenced 
to be shot. But in consequence of his age, and his services in the 
Revolution, he was recommended to the mercy of the President, who, 
remitting the capital punishment, contented himself with striking the 
offender's name from the army roll. 

The weakness of Hull had been penetrated by his officers long be- 
fore the surrender, and letters were, in consequence, despatched to 
Governor Meigs, of Ohio, informing him of the suspicions of the wri- 
ters, and soliciting reinforcements to open the communications. A 
force of volunteers was promptly called out. In a few days the in- 
telligence of the loss of Detroit arrived. The departure of the troopjs 
was now hastened, and Harrison, created for the purpose a Major- 
General of the Kentucky mihtia, was entrusted with the command. 
His troops marched from Cincinnati, on the 29th of August, their 
first destination being the relief of the frontier posts. The numbers 
of his army were about twenty-five hundred. Halting at Piqua, he 
proceeded to Fort Wayne, the siege of which by the Indians was 



BURNING OF THE INDIAN VILLAGES. 3S 

raised on his approach. He already, however, began to feel the 
want of supplies, which, having to be transported from the settled 
country and Cincinnati, arrived in small quantities and after great 
delays. Hence, he found it impossible to march at once on Detroit, 
^s had been originally intended. He contented himself, therefore, 
with sending out two expeditions, one against the Miami towns on 
the Wabash, the other against the Potawatamie villages on the river 
St. Joseph. Both incursions were successful. Nine villages were 
burned, and all the standing corn destroyed ; a rigorous, but neces- 
sary measure, since, without it, the hostile Indians could not have 
been driven from a neighborhood so dangerous to the American 
army. 

Towards the close of September, General Winchester, a Brigadier 
in the army of the United States, arrived at Fort Wayne with rein- 
forcements, and superseded Harrison. The latter was on his return 
to his government in Indiana, when he was overtaken by an express 
from Washington, assigning to him the chief command of the, army. 
On the 23d of September he reached Fort Wayne again, but found 
that Winchester had marched to Fort Defiance, the preceding day, 
with two thousand men. The progress of Winchester was slow, for 
his route lay through swamps, or impenetrable thickets ; while he was 
compelled to move with great caution, clouds of hostile Indians hang- 
ing on his front. In fact, a detachment of four hundred British re- 
gulars, attended by artillery, and accompanied by more than a thou- 
sand savages had been advancing to attack Fort Wayne, when, 
learning Winchester's approach, it thought it most prudent to fall 
back towards the Miami. The Americans soon began to feel the 
want of provisions ; for a supply despatched down the river Au 
Giaize by Harrison, could not reach Fort Defiance in consequence of 
the vicinity of the enemy. At last the sufferings of his army became 
so extreme that Winchester sent back an escort, who succeeded in 
bringing up supplies on pack horses. On the 30th of September, 
his troops reached Fort Defiance, which the enemy abandoned on 
his approach. 

Three days afterwards, Harrison arrived ; but remained only 
twenty-four hours, returning to bring up. the residue of his troops. 
He now proceeded to arrange them according to the following dispo 
sition. General Tupper, with a regiment of regulars, and the Ohio 
volunteers and militia, was placed at Fort M'Arthur. This force 
constituted the centre of the army. The left wing was left at Fort 
Defiance, under Winchester. The right wing, composed of two bri- 
gades of militia, one from Pennsylvania, and one from Virginia, wa» 

5 



84 DEFENCE OP FORT HARRISON. 

Stationed at Sandusky. The army had left Cincinnati, fully expect 
ing to strike a decisive blow before winter, but this the want of sup 
plies had prevented. With the exception of an incursion of five 
days, undertaken by General Tupper against the Rapids of the Mi- 
ami, and which proved eminently successful, no further movement 
was made during the fall. Tupper, after defeating the savages and 
British, returned to Fort M'Arthur ; and thus ended what is called 
Harrison's first autumnal campaign. 

Meantime, while these events had been transacting on Lake Erie, 
the war had not languished in Indiana and Illinois. The poUcy of 
England was to let her battles be fought by the savages, whom she 
had accordingly supplied with arms, and instigated to take up the 
hatchet. Hence the necessity, during the first two campaigns, of so 
many expeditions against the Indians. A body of Kentucky volun- 
teers, under General Hopkins, and a detachment of rangers, under 
Colonel Russell, had been despatched to chastise the tribes in these 
two territories by destroying their towns. Their first destination, 
however, was the relief of Fort Harrison, a post at that time invest- 
ed by the savages. The commander of this place was General Tay- 
lor, then a young officer, holding the rank of Captain ; but his con- 
duct, in the emergency, evinced all those heroic traits which have 
since shone forth, on a grander scale, at Palo Alto, Monterey and 
Buena Vista. Expecting an attack, he held himself hourly in readi- 
ness. On the night of the 4th of September the anticipated assault 
took place. The Indians succeeded in firing a block-house contigu- 
ous to the barracks ; and it was with great difficulty the latter were 
preserved from the flames. Sending a detachment to the roof of the 
barracks to tear off the portion adjoining the block-house, while a 
galling fire was maintained on the Indians from other parts of the 
fort, the gallant young officer finally succeeded in preventing the 
spreading of the flames. The block-house, however, was consumed, 
and thus a gap, six or eight feet wide, opened into the fort. But this 
interval was speedily barricaded, and the savages repulsed in an at- 
tempt to enter. When the attack had continued seven hours, and 
day had broken, the Indians retired. The Americans lost but three 
killed and three wounded. . During this contest, there were only fif- 
teen etfective men in the garrison, the rest being sick or convales- 
cent. In a few days the place was relieved by the approach of Ge- 
neral Hopkins at the head of four thousand men. 

Preparations were now begun to fulfil the second object of the ex- 
pedition, an attack on the Peoria villages. But, after a march of 
four days in the direction of the enemy, the spirit of insubordination 



MASSACRE OP THE RIVER RAISIN, 35 

among the volunteers grew to such a pitch that the General thought 
it advisable not to proceed. He offered, however, to pursue the en- 
terprise if five hundred persons could be found to attend him. But 
the volunteers, either from the exhausted state of their horses, their 
own fears, or their want of confidence in Hopkins, decided almost 
unanimously to return. Accordingly the authority of the General 
was set aside, and the army began to retrace its steps. Meantime 
however. Colonel Russel had marched by a different route against 
the savages and defeated them. Having burned their towns and 
destroyed their corn, he returned to the settlements. Another de- 
tachment, led by Captain Craig, penetrated twenty miles further than 
even Russel. In November, Hopkins, at the head of twelve hun- 
dred and fifty men, undertook a more successful enterprise against 
the villages on the Wabash. Colonel Campbell, in December, led a 
similar expedition, and with like success, against the towns on the 
Mississinewa river. 

Harrison having failed in his autumnal campaign, determined to 
resume operations in the winter. Accordingly he directed the three 
divisions of his army to rendezvous at the rapids of the Miami ; there 
collect provisions ; and making a feint on Detroit, cross the strait on 
the ice and invest Maiden. General Winchester was the first to ar- 
rive at the rendezvous, which he did after incredible privations on 
the part of his men. But he had scarcely reached the rapids, when, 
yielding to the entreaties of the citizens of Frenchtown for protection, 
he detached Colonel Lewis with seven hundred and fifty men to 
their relief. Lewis met and defeated a body of British and their 
savage allies. The news of this success transported those who had 
been left behind ; all were anxious to press forward and secure a 
portion of the glory ; and accordingly, Winchester, with the remain- 
der, pushing on to Frenchtown, arrived and took post at that place 
on the 20th of January, 1813. The fatal error of thus placing him- 
self beyond sustaining distance from the main army, was exemplified 
the next day, when Proctor, at the head of fifteen hundred British 
and savages, attacked and defeated the Americans. Winchester 
was taken prisoner early in the action. A portion of his troops held 
out for some time longer, but finally capitulated. 

Now ensued a tragedy the remembrance of which will never be 
effaced from the popular mind. The uninjured Americans were im- 
mediately marched towards Maiden by their captors. The wounded, 
however, were left on the field| but with the understanding that they 
should be sent for the next day. But the following morning the In 
dians broke in on these helpless men, and after murdering them, set 



36 BATTLE OF QUEENSTOWN. 

fire to the houses where they lay. This atrocious act which the Bri 
tish might easily have prevented, has been justly called the massacre o 
the River Raisin. Harrison, who had arrived at the rapids, hearinr; 
of the capture of Winchester, deemed it advisable to retreat. Ho 
accordingly fell back to Carrying River, about midway between the 
Miami and Sandusky. The next month, however, finding that Proc- 
tor made no attempt at pursuit, he advanced again to the rapids, where 
he began the construction of Fort Meigs, destined to be subsequently 
celebrated for its two sieges. Thus ended what is called Harrison's 
winter campaign. It was quite as unfortunate as his autumnal one, 
and did little or nothing towards obliterating the disgrace of Hull's 
surrender. 

While these events bad been transacting on the north-west frontier, 
others of scarcely less importance had been occurring on Lake Onta- 
rio. Here the population was comparatively dense. The govern- 
ment accordingly looked to this point as one where a decisive blow 
could be struck against the enemy. It was evidently to the advan- 
tage of the United States that the war should be waged on the soil 
of Canada, and hence the resolution was early taken to invade that 
territory. The American forces, guarding the northern frontier, were 
stationed at Plattsburgh, Buffalo, Sackett's Harbor, Black Rock, and 
Ogdensburg, the whole under the supreme command of Major-Gen- 
eral Dearborn. In addition to the regular army, however, thus dis- 
posed, the militia of New York, thirty-five hundred in number, were 
in the field, commanded by Major-General Van Rensselaer. These 
were posted at Lewistown. General Dearborn was ordered early in 
the season to assail the British, if for no other purpose than to pre- 
vent their sending succor to Maiden. The summer, however, passed 
in inactivity. Dearborn having, notwithstanding the orders from 
Washington, concluded an armistice with the Governor-General of 
Canada, based on a mutual belief that peace was at hand, in conse- 
quence of the repeal of the English orders in council. General Van 
Rensselaer, however, was disposed to be more active. A detach- 
ment of Americans having, on the 21st of September, captured a 
small village on the Canadian side, the enemy endeavored to reta- 
liate by an unsuccessful expedition against Ogdensburg. General 
Van Rensselaer, on this resolved to attack Queenstown. The enter- 
prise was undertaken on the 13th of October, and but for the cow- 
ardice of the militia would have resulted in a brilliant victory. It 
was on this occasion that General, then Colonel Scott, first distm 
y^jished himself. 

The plan of the attack was as follows : — a corps of six hundred 



BATTLE OF QtJEENSTOWN. 



37 



infantry, half of which were militia and half regulars, was, undel 
cover of night, to cross the Niagara and carry the batteries by assault. 
The boats collected to transport the men proved insufficient, how- 
ever, and only a portion of the force was carried over to the British 
shore in time. One detachment, attempting to cross, was forced by 
the current under the guns of the enemy, and most of it captured. 
Meantime, however, Colonel Van Rensselaer, who led the pioneers, 
gallantly advanced on the foe with what forces he had ; but being 




BATTLE OF QUEEXSTOWN. 



soon wounded, was forced to leave the field. The Americans dash- 
ed forward, nevertheless, and seized a height called the Mountain, 
whither they dragged an eighteen pounder and two mortars. The Bri- 
tish now fled to Queenstown. , Here the fugitives were met and ral- 
lied by General Brock, who led them back to dispossess the Ameri- 
cans of the height. But Brock being mortally wounded, the British 
again fled. Some accessions of force, chiefly militia, under General 
Wadsworth, finally made their appearance. 

At this crisis Colonel Scott reached the field of battle and took 
command of the United States troops, now reduced to about two 
hundred and fifty. Expecting to be reinforced from Lewistown, he 

IV 



SS THE CONSTITUTION AND THE GUERRIERE. 

drew up his men close to the ferry, in order to cover that important 
point. Here he manfully stood his ground, twice repulsing the Bri- 
tish and their Indian allies. At last, Major-General Sheaffe, at the . 
head of the neighboring garrison of Fort George, which had been 
aroused by the firing, arrived at the scene of contest. His forces 
numbered eight hundred and fifty. All hope of succor from the 
American side had meantime departed, for the militia, beholding 
the numbers of the British, were seized with alarm and refused to cross. 
Retreat was impossible, the boats all being on the American side. 
In consequence, after some desperate efforts at resistance, which 
proved unavailing, Scott was compelled to capitulate. The Ameri- 
cans suffered in killed, wounded and prisoners, one thousand men, a 
half of whom were regulars. The British loss is not known, though 
It was considerable. General Van Rensselaer, in consequence of 
this failure, shortly after resigned. In the death of Brock, the ene- 
my experienced a blow for which even victory could afford no com- 
nensation. Brock enjoyed one of the best reputations in the English 
army, and had been Wellington's competitor, a few years before, for 
tne command in the peninsula. A sentiment of chivalrous respect in- 
auced the Americans to fire minute-guns from Fort Niagara during 
tne funeral ceremonies of this hero. What more delightful than to 
record acts of courtesy like this, amid the forbidding incidents of a 
sanguinary war ! 

Other attempts were subsequently made to invade Canada by Ge- 
neral Smyth, the successor of Van Rensselaer. But the want of boats 
led to the failure of these projected expeditions. General Dearborn, 
whose head-quarters were at Greenbush, was not more successful ; 
and, though in command of a respectable force of regulars, suffered 
the autumn to pass in inactivity. In short, so complete had been the 
failure of our arms on land in this campaign, that but for the bril- 
liant success that attended us at sea, the spirit of the people would, 
yicrhaps, have given way. But, in the darkest hour of disaster, when 
the surrender of Detroit buried the nation in gloom, the victory of 
the Constitution over the Guerriere, suddenly blazed across the fir- 
mament, and inspired hope and exultation in every bosom. 

On the declaration of war, the prowess of England at sea was re- 
garded as so invincible, that the administration hesitated whether to 
send the national vessels from port. The American navy, in 1812, con- 
sisted of ten frigates, of which five were laid up in ordinary ; ten 
sloops and smaller vessels ; and one hundred and sixty-five useless 
gun boats. The representations of a few oflicers, however, who 
were confident of success, induced the President to allow a portion ol 



THE CONSTITUTION AND THE GUERRIERE. 39 

this little navy to sail. One of the first of our frigates to leave port was 
the Constitution. This vessel, commanded by Captain Isaac Hull, put 
to sea from Annapolis, on the 12th of July, 1812, bound to New 
York. On her voyage, however, she fell in with a British fleet, from 
which she only escaped by incredible exertions of seamanship 
and skill. Being chased from her route, she went into Boston har- 
bor. By this accident Hull was prevented receiving an order that had 
been despatched to New York, directing him to give up the command 
of his ship. In a few days he sailed on a new cruise. On the 19th 
of August he met the Guerriere, Captain Dacres, an English frigate 
of slightly inferior force, and, after a sharp conflict of half an hour, 
compelled her to surrender. The loss of the Americans in this action 
was seven killed and seven wounded; that of the British fifteen 
killed, sixty-two wounded, and twenty-four missing. The Guerriere 
was injured so materially that it was found impossible to carry her 
into port, and accordingly she was burned. This victory is attribu- 
ted in part to the heavier metal of the Constitution, but chiefly to the 
superior gunnery of her crew. . Its effect on the public mind was 
electric. The triumph was regarded almost as a miracle. In the 
general exultation, the surrender of Detroit was almost forgotten ; 




CONSTITDTIOIf AND THB GUKREIKKE. 



and the spirits of the people were rallied, when otherwise they migh 
have sunk into despair. 

The insane confidence of the British in their naval superiority had 
been exhibited a few days before, when Captain Porter, in the Ame- 



40 



AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORIES 



rican frigate Essex had been attacked by the British sloop of war 
Alert, a vessel of very inferior force. For her temerity, however, 
the Alert, in eight minutes had suffered so much from the fire of her 
enemy as to have seven feet of water io her hold. She surrendered 
of necessity, and was sent into New York. Other victories followed 
in rapid succession. On the 8th of October, the British sloop Fro« 




THE CAPTCKB OF THE FSOLIC BY THE WASP, 



lie, of twenty -two guns, was captured by the American sloop Wasp, 
Captain Jones, of eighteen guns. Seven days afterwards the frigate 
iJnited States, Captain Decatur, being off the ^'V'estern Islands, met 
the British frigate Macedonian, Captain Carden, and forced her to sur- 
render. The loss of the Macedonian was thirty-sjx killed and sixty- 
eight wounded; that of the United States only four killed and seven 
wounded. Decatur carried the Macedonian into New York. On 
the 29t!i of December, the Constitution, now commanded by Captain 
Bainbndge, fell in with, and captured the British f -igate Java, Cap- 
tain Lambert, off the coast of Brazil ; the Java I'jsing sixty killed 
and more than one hundred wounded, while the less on board the 
Constitution was but nine killed and twenty-five wounded. These 
series of successes had been attended with but few reverses. Only 
three national vessels had been lost, the Wasp, Vixen and Nautilus, 



CAPTURE OF YORKTOWN. 41 

of which the first, a sloop of war, was the largest. All of these ships, 
moreover, had surrendered to vastly superior forces. In addition to 
the victories of the regular marine, almost daily triumphs were 
achieved by the American privateers. It was computed, v/hen Con- 
gress met in November, that two hundred and fifty British vessels 
had already fallen a prey to private cruizers. 

These successes determined the government to decline the ofier 
of an armistice, tendered by Great Britain, unless that power would 
abandon her claim to impressment. The English Cabinet, however, 
refused to yield this point, and preparations were in consequence 
made to open the year 1813 with renewed activity. Twenty addi- 
tional regiments of infantry were ordered to be raised, and ten regi- 
ments of rangers ; while the greatest inducements were held out to 
enlist. It was resolved also to increase the navy. In a word, though 
our armies on land had met with almost universal defeat in 1812, it 
was hoped that in 1813 they would be attended by a better fortune : 
and accordingly, a new plan for the invasion of Canada was pro- 
jected, under the especial direction of General Armstrong, the succes- 
sor of Dr. Eustis, as Secretary at War. 

The army on Lake Ontario was still commanded by General Dear- 
born. The plan of General Armstrong, as communicated to this 
General early in 1813, was to attack the British posts of Kingston, 
York, and Fort George, in succession — ^the reduction of the first 
being considered the most important, and therefore to be under- 
taken as a preliminary. General Dearborn, however, after consult- 
ing Commodore Chauncey, who commanded the fleet on Lake On- 
tario, resolved to begin with York. Accordingly, on the 27th of 
April, the fleet arrived off" that place, and the troops being landed, 
the town was captured. Owing however to the explosion of the 
British fort, General Pike, who led the Americans, was killed, while 
two hundred of his men were either killed or wounded. General 
Dearborn having remained on board the fleet, and the officer who now 
succeeded to the command, being without orders, most of the 
fruits of the expedition were lost. The army next proceeded, 
though not until after various delays, to attack Fort George. On the 
27th of May that place was assailed, and captured, after a spir- 
ited resistance. A series of operations in the open field now ensued, 
which were attended generally with disgrace and failure to the 
Americans ; and, in the end, General Dearborn recalled all his troops 
to the fort, which the British proceeded to invest. 

While this imbecile campaign was dragging along, a General 
born of the people blazed suddenly into notoriety. The circumstance 
IV* 6 



42 CAPTURE OF YORKTOWN. 

was this: On the 27th of May, an attack bemg made on the 
American post at Sackett's Harbor, General BroAvn, a militia otiicer 
of that neighborhood, placing himself at the head of the garrison, 
defeated the assailants. The gallantry and decision of Brown in this 
action, appeared the more conspicuous in contrast with the tardiness 
and want of ability displayed by Dearborn. The latter General was 
old, weak, and in bad health, and thus unfit, on many accounts, for 
his post. At last the public indignation rose to such a height, that 
he was recalled, and General Wilkinson appointed in his place. 

It is time now to return to the norlh-western frontier, where we 
left Harrison engaged in the construction of Fort Meigs. The cam- 
paign of 1813 was opened in this quarter, by the advance of Proctor 
against that post, in the latter part of April, at the head of two 
thousand British and Indians. Harrison being in hourly expectation 
of succor from Ohio, gallantly defended the place until the fifth of 
May, when General Clay arrived with the expected reinforcements. 
An unsuccessful attempt was now made to raise the siege. A few days 
later. Proctor finding the Indians dissatisfied, suddenly abandoned 
the enterprise, and embarking Ms artillery, retired towards Maiden. 
On the 20th of July another attempt was made on Fort Meigs, but 
after eight days, the siege was- again given up. The enemy then 
sailed around to Sandusky Bay, in order to capture Fort Stephen- 
son, a post affording an inviting opportunity for capture, since it 
was garrisoned by only one hundred and fifty men. The comman- 
der, however. Major Croghan, was a young man of spirit, resolu- 
tion, and ambition. On the 1st of August, the British invested the 
fort, and on the second, after a heavy cannonade, advanced to as- 
sault it. But they were repulsed with such terrible loss, that they 
precipitately raised the seige, leaving behind their wounded. This 
gave Harrison an opportunity to contrast his humanity with that of 
Proctor. By the orders of the American General, the wounded Rri. 
tish soldiers were treated with the greatest kindness, an eloquent re- 
buke to the conduct of Proctor at the Raisin, where his negligence, 
if not his consent, led to the massacre of the Kentuckians. The 
brilliant defence of Fort Sandusky, in conjunction with that of 
Sackett's Harbor, assisted to rally the despondency of the nation, 
and prophetic minds saw in them, forebodings of future victories, 
which, in the succeeding year, were realized. 

From the period of his winter campaign on the Raisin, Harrison 
had urged upon government the necessity of a naval force on Lake 
Erie. He asserted that half the money expended in transporting 
supplies to the army as was necessary, for two hundred miles 



BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE, 



43 



through the wilderness, would build and equip a fleet which would 
give the United States the command of Lake Erie ; enable supplies 
to be procured at comparative!}' small expense -, and transport the 
irmy, if required, in a few hours to Canada. These views, at last, 
made an impression on the Prcsidefit, and two brigs, and several 
schooners were ordered to be built on Lake Erie. This fleet, being 
completed by the second of August, was entrusted to the command 
of Lieutenant Oliver Perry, an ardent, brave, and skilful young ofli- 
cer. He immediately set sail in search of the enemy. He found the 
British fleet lying in the harbor of Maiden ; but the enemy refusing 
to come out aud engage. Perry retired. On the 10th of September, 
the Enghsh squadron left its post, when the American commander 
promptly made sail to give battle. A change of wind prevented the 
enemy from declining the combat. The British fleet consisted of 
six vessels, carrying sixty -three guns; the American, of nine vessels, 




BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE. 



carrying fifty- four guns. The English, consequently, were rather 
superior. The action was warmly contested, and once nearly won 
by the enemy ; but the indomitable spirit of Perry was not to be 
subdued ; he fought on. and victory finally declared for him. The 
loss oi the British was forty-one killed, and ninety -four wounded- 



'44 BATTLE OF THE THAMES. 

that of the Americans, twenty-seven killed, and ninety -six wounded 
By this victory, one of the most glorious in the annals of our coun 
try, the enemy was disheartened, and his fleet, on which he had de 
pendedfor supplies, destroyed. Every sagacious mind now saw that the 
British would be forced, in time, to evacuate, not only the American 
territory they occupied, but also a portion of Upper Canada. 

Meantime, a series of disasters was attending our arms on the 
St. Lawrence. General Dearborn, as we have seen, had been sus- 
pended by General Wilkinson ; and General Armstrong, the Secretary 
of War^ had arrived in person, at the seat of operations, in order to 
superintend the campaign. But the new General was even worse 
than the last. If Dearborn was superannuated, Wilkinson was vain, 
as well as old. On the 21st of October he began the descent of the 
St. Lawrence, his intention being to attack Montreal, after forming 
a junction with General Hampton, who was to advance from Lake 
Champlain. The late period of the year however, bringing incle- 
ment weather, delayed the progress of the troops. At last, after a 
delay of two weeks, the army left Lake Ontario, and entered the 
St. Lawrence. A few days subsequently, the indecisive battle of Wil- 
liamsburgh was fought, and . shortly after, on Hampton's declaring 
his inability to reach the rendezvous, Wilkinson abandoned the en- 
terprise. A bold leader would have advanced, nothwithstanding 
his disappointment. Wilkinson's only excuse for his conduct, is that 
he was enfeebled, both in mind and body, by sickness. The dis- 
graceful termination of this expedition ultimately produced the resig- 
nation of both Wilkinson and Armstrong. The disasters on the 
northern frontier did not, however, cease with this failure. On the 
10th of December, the Americans abandoned and blew up Fort 
George, and in retiring, burnt the Canadian village of Newark. On 
the 15th,. the invaders were pursued to their own soil, Fort Niagara 
captured by surprise, and the neighboring villages of Lewis- 
town, Youngstown, and Manchester, consumed in retaUation for the 
destruction of Newark. Subsequently, Black Rock and Buflalo 
were also attacked by the British, and given to the flames. In the 
north-west, however, our arms had been more successful. The vic- 
tory of Perry having opened the road into Canada, Harrison, on tho 
27th of September, 1813, embarked his troops, and landed the sam3 
day in the British territories. Proctor, who. since the defeat of the 
English fleet, had acted hke one stupified with fear, immediately 
abandoned Maiden, and began a disgraceful flight. On the 5th of 
October, Harrison overtook the retreating General, and the battle of 
the Thames ensued, in which the combined British and Indian force 



BRITISH ATROCITIES. 45 

was defeated. Proctor was one of the first to fly. His savage ally, 
Tecumseh, fought with more resolution, and stoutly disputed the 
day, until he fell, covered with wounds. The loss in this battle was 
comparatively slight. The Americans suffered, in killed and wound- 
ed, only twenty-nine ; the British and savages, about sixty-four. By 
this victory of the Thames, the whole territory surrendered by Gene- 
ral Hull was recovered, while a large portion of Canada was wrested 
from the British crown, and retained until the end of the war. 
Nor was this ail •, the power of tlie savages having been thus 
broken, they were not able again to rally, and henceforth the British 
had to conduct the war alone. 

While success on the Canadian frontier had been fluctuating in 
this manner between the Americans and British, though, on the 
whole, inclining to the latter, the people of the Middle States were 
kept in a state of continual alarm by predatory incursions from the 
enemy's fleet. In December, 1812, the Atlantic coast, from the 
Chesapeake to Rhode Island, had been declared m a state of 
blockade. Immediately, the British ships on the seaboard, com- 
menced a harassing warfare on tlie exposed settlements. An attack 
made on Lewistown, near the mouth of the Delaware Bay, proved 
indeed, unsuccessful ; but in the Chesapeake, the depredations of 
the enemv, under Admiral Cockburn, spread terror on every hand. 
Nothing was too petty for this marauder to assail. Farm-houses 
were plundered ; country-seats burned ; and villages sacked, undei 
his personal superintendence. Frenchtown, Havre de Grace, Fre- 
derickstown, and Georgetown, were laid in ashes. But at Norfolk, 
the enemy met with a repulse. Irritated at this however, the Bri- 
tish assailed Hampton, a town about eighteen miles distant, and 
having succeeded in capturing it, committed there the most revolting 
crimes. Subsequently, the shores of North Carolina were ravaged by 
Cockburn. The burning of Newark formed the excuse for these 
atrocities. Another circumstance in addition to these successful maraud- 
ing expeditions, tended to depress the public confidence. The naval 
successes of 1813 were less numerous, and with the exception of 
Perry's victory, less brilliant than in 1812, though the year had 
opened auspiciously. On the 23d of February, Captain Lawrence, 
m the Hornet, a sloop of v/ar, captured the British brig of war, Pen- 
guin, Captain Peake. So shattered was the enemy's ship by the 
fire of the Hornet, that she sunk before her crew could all be remov- 
ed, carrying down with her nine Englishmen and three Americans 
For this victory, Lawrence was promoted to the frigate Chesapeake, 
then in the port of Boston. . He had scarcely taken command of his 



46 NAVAL BATTLES. 

new ship, before Captain Brock, of the British frigate Shannon 
cruizing oif Boston harbor, sent in a challenge for the Chesapeake 
to come out and fight the Shannon. Ardent, young, and confident, 
Lawrence left his anchorage on the first of June, and proceeded to 
meet the foe. In the battle that followed, the American frigate was 
captured, with a loss of niixety-seven wounded, and seventy-eight 
killed— among the latter, the Captain. The British loss was twin- 
ty-four killed, and fifty-six wounded ; Captain Brock being among 
the latter. The success of the enemy was owning to his crew being 
composed of picked men, while that of Lawrence was in a state 
of almost open mutiny. This loss of the Chesapeake happening 
almost in sight of Boston, affected the nation with a profound senti- 
ment of despondency ; and there were even those who now began to 
assert that our former naval victories had been accidents, and that 
hereafter, England would defeat us on sea, as universally as she had 
done on land. 

Hov/ever, other successes on the ocean soon brought the public 
mind back to a more healthy tone. In August the Argus, brig-of-war, 
commanded by Captain Allen, boldly entered the British channel,and 
in a short time captured vessels and cargoes to the amount of two 
millions of dollars. Such was the terror created by her depredatioiw 




TaE ENTEBPRISE AND THE BOXER. 



that insurances could scarcely be effected at any price m London. 
The government hastened to despatch various cruizers against the 
Argus, one of which, the Pehcan, of silperior force, finally fell ir 



BATTLE OP TALLUSHATCHEE. 47 

with and captured her. The defence of the Argus was desperate, 
and only terminated by the fall, of her Captain, and the approach of 
an enemy's frigate. On the 4th of September, the American brig-of- 
war. Enterprise, Lieutenant Burrows, took the British brig-of-war, 
Boxer, of equal force, and thus again changed the fortune of war. 
On the whole, however, our naval success in 1813, Avas inferior to 
what it had been during 1812 ; and that unlimited confidence in our 
naval prowess, which had begun to characterize the Americans, 
yielded to uneasy doubts. While the failures on the St. Lawrence, 
and the equal nature of the strife at sea thus filled the public mind 
with uneasiness, the breaking out of a war among the Creeks of 
Georgia, affording a new element of danger, led, for a time, to almost 
general gloom. 

The Indians of the south had early shown a taste for civiUzed 
pursuits, and become thriving agriculturalists. Some traces of their 
original savage natures, however, remained uneradicated, and 
these were easily re-awakened, when Tecumseh, in the spring 
of 1812, visited them to instigate to war. In September of 
that year, accordingly, an attack was made on a party of Georgia 
volunteers, who, after a sha.rp conflict, were forced to retreat. 
On receiving inteUigence of this event. General Jackson, at the head 
of twenty-five hundred Tennessee volunteers, was ordered out, 
and in consequence, the Creeks were, for a time, awed into quiet. 
But, on the 30th of August, 1813, a body of Indians suddenly at- 
tacked Fort Mimmns, in Alabama, and having fired the houses built 
around the enclosure, massacred the garrison and other inmates as 
they rushed from the flames. About three hundred settlers, alarmed 
by the disturbed condition of the country, had taken refuge in the 
fort, and these all fell, except seventeen, who managed to escape. 
The savages followed up this blow by laying waste the neighboring 
country, and murdering the peaceable inhabitants. Encouraged by 
these successes, the whole Creek nation rushed to arms, and the 
people of Georgia, Alabama and even Tennessee, began to tremble 
for property and life. 

An army of thirty-five hundred men was promptly raised to chas 
tise the savages. At the head of this army was placed General Jack- 
son. He immediately marched into the Indian country, and on the 
9th of November, 181 Sjdespatched General Coffee, with nine hundred 
men, against a body of Indians, collected at Tallushatchee. A com- 
plete victory was gained by the Americans, and at a loss of only 
five killed and forty wounded. The enemy fought with desperate 
valor, and protracted the contest until nearly ail his warriors perished, 
over one hundred and eighty being left dead on the field. On the 



48 BATTLE OF EMUCKFAU. 

9th of December, General Jackson, in person, met another body of the 
Indians at Talledega, and cut them to pieces, after a terrible encoun- 
ter. More than three hundred of the enemy were killed ; while but 
fifteen Amerfcans were killed, and eighty wounded. After this bat- 
tie, General Jackson was forced to remain inactiv^e for a time, in conse- 
quence of the want of provisions and of a mutiny among his troops. 
But, meanwhile, General White, at the head of another body of mi- 
htia, had attacked the principal towns of the Hillabee tribe, which 
he destroyed, killing sixty warriors, and making two hundred and 
fifty prisoners. Almost simultaneously, the Georgia militia, under 
General Floyd, at the Autossee town on Tallapoosa river, obtained 
a decisive victory over the Indians, killing two hundred, with a loss 
of but eleven Americans killed, and fifty-four wounded. 

The bloody tragedy continued without intermission during the 
rest of 1813, and up to the spring of 1814. As it is but a repetition 
of sanguinary battles, let us hasten to its close. On the 21st of Janu- 
ary, 1814, the savages, recovering confidence, attacked General Jack- 
son at Emuckfau, but were again defeated, with great slaughter. 
On the 27th, they also assailed the camp of General Floyd, with 
like ill-success. The Americans did not follow up these advan- 
tages, however, until spring, being prevented from active mea- 
sures by the want of provisions. But on the 14th of March, Gene- 
ral Jackson began to advance a second time into the Creek territory. 
On the 27th, he fought the decisive battle of the Horse-Shoe-Bend, in 
Avhich near six hundred of the savages perished. The American 
loss was fifty-five killed and one hundred and forty-six wounded. 
This action terminated the war. The strength of the Indians had 
been completely prostrated in this last struggle, and being utterly 
unable to make another stand, they sued for peace. In all these ac- 
tions the savages had fought with the most heroic obstinacy, gener- 
ally refusing quarter ; and, at the close of hostilities, many, disdain- 
ing to submit, sullenly retired to Florida, where, in secret, they 
brooded over revenge. 

The conditions on which the United States granted peace, were 
liberal, considering the unprovoked nature of the war, and the almost 
uninterrupted success which had attended the American arms. All 
the prisoners on both sides were to be restored. As the war had 
prevented the Indians planting corn, and the nation would be con 
sequently in a state of starvation, the United States agreed to furnish 
the necessaries of life until the famine should be over. In conside- 
ration of these things the Creeks ceded a portion of their territory 



NORTH-WESTERN FRONTIER. 49 

suliicient to indemnify the United States for the expenses of the war. 
It was further stipulated that roads should be opened through the Creek 
territory ; that the navigation of the Creek rivers should be free ; and 
that the United States should have the right to establish military 
posts and trading houses within the Creek boundaries. 

We have thus followed the course of events during the years 1813 
and 1813; and beheld, on every side, far more disasters than victo- 
ries. The task has been an uninviting one. With the exception of 
the victory at Fort Stephenson, an incessant torrent of misfortune 
had characterized the operations in the north-west, up to the victory 
of Perry on Lake Erie. First, Detroit had surrendered ; then Har- 
rison's autumnal campaign had failed ; afterwards had come the 
massacre of the Raisin; and, finally, to crown this climax of defeat, 
the American army, instead of recovering Michigan, was compelled 
to fall back and entrench itself at Fort Meigs. The first half of the 
year 1813 passed without any victories to compensate for these dis- 
asters. It is true, Fort Meigs twice repulsed the enemy, but this 
was only a negative success, and did not satisfy the people, who had 
expected the army to advance into Canada. At last the prospect began 
to brighten. After great exertions, a large army was collected on 
the shores of Lake Erie, and Perry having obtained his victory, there 
followed the invasion of the enemy's territory, the battle of the 
Thames, the recovery of Michigan, and the utter destruction of 
the hostile Indian confederacy ! 

But on Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence, misfortune still at- 
tended our arms. What few advantages had been obtained over 
the enemy in this part of Canada, were lost before the close of 1813, 
and the most cheerless prospect presented itself to the people on that 
'frontier. Our armies had been universally defeated ; our oldest and 
most tried Generals had failed ; and our soil had been profaned and 
our villages burned by the victorious enemy. Instead of being the 
invaders we had become the invaded. These triumphs over us had 
been gained by a comparatively small number of the British forces ; 
for occupied with the closing struggles of Napoleon, England had 
been unable to spare but few of her veteran troops. But the con- 
test in Europe was evidently drawing to a close. Before many 
months. Great Britain, disengaged from her continental foe, would 
be at liberty to inundate our shores with fifty thousand veterans 
These considerations filled all reflecting minds with alarm. It was 
to be feared, that, with such superioradvantages, England would not 
only regain what she had lost in the north-west, but carry her vic- 
V 7 



50 



REFLECTIONS ON THE WAR. 



torioiis arms permanently into New York. The prospect, indeed 
was dark and threatening. Was it eternal night setting in, or only 
the gloom that precedes the dawn ? 

Indeed, even at this day, the historian cannot look back upon that 
period, without melancholy feelings. MilUons of money had been 
spent, and thousands of lives sacrificed, yet scarcely a gleam of vic- 
tory had irradiated the dark tempest of disaster. But the heroic re- 
solution to continue the struggle remained, and while that was left 
all hope had not yet departed. The nation, at that epoch, reminds 
us of some defeated army, which has sunk down exhausted, amid 
the gloom and horror of the battle-field, to snatch a short repose be- 
fore renewing the desperate contest on the morrow. Only a prophe- 
tic eye could see light breaking across the ruin. 





BOOK III 



TO THE CLOSE OP THE CONTEST. 



EFORE resuming the narrative of military 
events, we will turn aside to consider the 
financial condition of the country, and other 
matters important to be known for a full un- 
derstanding of the contest. 

The two years of war which had now 
elapsed had cost the nation immense sums. 
By carrying on the contest at a distance from 
the thickly settled portions of the country, the 
expenses had been much increased, and in some instances were al- 
most appalling. Each barrel of flour for Harrison's army was esti- 
mated to have cost a hundred dollars. Of four thousand pack-horses 
employed in the autumn of 1812 to transport supplies to that Gene- 
ral, but eight hundred were alive at the end of the ensuing winter, 
and the nation paid for all that perished. The expenses of the war 
on Lake Ontario wore less frightful, though even there they swelled 

51 




52 TAXATION. 

to an amount that was almost incredible. It cost a thousand dollars 
for every cannon conveyed to Sackett's Harbor. To build the fleets 
on the lakes absorbed immense amounts. The sum expended on 
Lake Ontario for this purpose alone was nearly two millions of dol- 
lars. These vast outlays necessarily embarrassed the public finances, 
especially as the war had been begun with an impoverished treasury. 
Before Congress adjourned, after the declaration of hostilities, a bill 
had been passed, allowing the President to issue treasury notes to 
the amount of five millions of dollars ; and one of its first acts on re- 
assembling in November, was to authorize a further issue of five 
millions, and to empower him to borrow sixteen millions in addition. 

These measures being found insufficient to provide for the rapidly 
increasing expenses of the contest, and the revenue from the customs 
being cut off almost entirely, it became necessary to adopt other ex- 
pedients, and accordingly, on the 22nd of July, 1813, Congress passed 
an act for levying direct taxes and internal duties. The direct tax 
was, at first, fixed at three millions, but in January, 1815, it was in- 
creased to six. The average duration of the war taxes was three 
years. The nett proceeds were about five millions three hundred 
thousand dollars annually. These taxes continued to be increased, 
from time to time, until the declaration of peace, after which they 
were gradually diminished until they ceased altogether. It is 
honorable to the nation to record that never were taxes paid 
more promptly, though specie payments being suspended, money 
was scarce and the currency in a most deranged condition. In addi- 
tion to these taxes. Congress, between the years 1812 and 1815, au- 
thorized loans to the amount of ninety millions, most of which were 
received in a depreciated currency, and never at an interest of less 
than six per cent. During the war the issue of treasury notes to the 
amount of forty millions also was authorized. At the close of the 
contest the national debt was increased nearly one hundred milUons. 
In consequence of these enormous liabilities the credit of the federal 
government sunk so low that treasury notes depreciated to seventeen 
per cent, and the loans to thirty per cent, below par. During all 
this period the commercial world was plunged in distress. Coin dis- 
appeared from circulation, and was replaced by a paper currency, 
frequently of the most worthless kind. The ruin of private fortunes 
was frequent. Yet, on the whole, the people bore their calamities 
with cheerfulness, never forgetting that they, rather than the 
government, were the true authors of the war ! 

We have already alluded to the fact that England, for the first 
two years of the contest, depended chiefly on the savages to fight 



GENERAL DEARBORN. 53 

ner battles. This was, in part, the result of necessity. Her minister 
at Washington, Mr. Foster, had so completely mistaken public sen- 
timent in the United States, as to believe that there existed no dan- 
ger of a war, and accordingly his government, relying on these as- 
surances, made little or no preparation for the crisis. Hence, when 
Congress declared hostilities, the British had but five thousand troops 
in Canada. Alarmed at the consequence of his error, Mr. Foster 
hastened to obviate them by a trick ; and it was at his secret insti- 
gation that Sir George Prevost applied for and obtained the armis- 
tice Avith General Dearborn, to which we have before alluded. This 
armistice, it is true, was immediately disavowed by Mr. Madison ; 
but in the meantime it had served its purpose ; for as the agreement 
did not extend to the upper lakes. Brock had hastened thither, and 
in consequence Detroit had been captured. The disgrace attending 
the fall of that place, made it a point of honor that it should be re-ta- 
ken ; and hence more importance was attached to its re-capture than 
it, perhaps, deserved. It is almost certain that if the sums which 
were expended in recovering Michigan, had been applied to fitting 
out an expedition against HaUfax, that important naval depot might 
have become ours in the first year of the war, and a blow been 
struck at England which would have staggered her, notwithstand- 
ing her colossal strength ! 

There is another consideration which increases the regret of the 
historian, when he reflects on this unfortunate armistice. It was the 
cause of a long period of inactivity, fatal not only to the health, but 
to the spirits of the army. The war on Lake Ontario having begun 
in a languishing way, was continued in the same manner for nearly 
two years ; for the troops who were to conduct it had been ruined, 
as it were, by the inactivity of the first three months. Had Dearborn, 
on the declaration of hostilities, dashed boldly across into Canada, 
he would have carried everything before him. A leader like Brown, 
or Scott, or Jackson, would, at that period, have been invaluable. 
The comparatively small numbers of the enemy would have render- 
ed his resistance unavailing, and the prestige of success once obtain- 
ed, our soldiers would have won victories subsequently as of course! 
More men in Dearborn's command died of diseases contracted from 
inactivity, than would have fallen in all the battles necessary to 
wrest Canada from the British arms. The weakness, imbecility, and 
want of energy which characterized the leaders, soon descended to 
the soldiers ; and hence it was that Wilkinson's army, the finest 
of the war, effected nothing. Timidity in the General breeds cow- 
ardice in the men. 



54 NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE. 

The awe in which the enemy's prowess was held, was not unknown 
to him, as we have seen in narrating the operations that led to the 
surrender of Detroit. The old arrogance of England now displayed 
itself in consequence in a claim as absurd, as it was tyrannical. On 
the capture of Colonel Scott's regulars at Queenstown, those who 
had been born subjects of his majesty, were selected from the pri- 
soners, and sent to England, there to be tried for bearing arms 
against their King. This conduct, though sought to be defended by 
the doctrine of allegiance, was an outrage of the most atrocious cha- 
racter, since many of the men were not only Irishmen, and hence 
unwilling subjects of Great Britain, but had become legal citizens 
of the United States. The behaviour of England in this affair, was 
no less absurd than unjust, for she could not but know that the Uni- 
ted States would retaliate. Colonel Scott, on his exchange, immedi- 
ately represented the case of these men to the Federal Government, 
which promptly issued orders that the British soldiers taken by our 
armies, should be held responsible for any injury inflicted on the 
prisoners of Queenstown. The English ministry, threatened in reply, 
that if a single British soldier suffered, an American officer should be 
sacrificed for ever}'- such soldier. But the United States, regardless 
of this, maintained a firm attitude. For a while the prisoners on both 
sides, below the rank of captain, inclusive, were treated harshly ; but 
in the spring of 1814, the enemy set the example of relaxing, and the 
dispute was finally terminated, by the release of Scott's soldiers. 
The attitude assumed by England in this affair, would not, perhaps, 
have been attempted towards any other civilized power. That some 
of our citizens were found to defend it,. proved that the colonial 
habit of submission had not yet entirely left us. 

Nor indeed was the administration of Mr. Madison wholly free 
from that belief in the invincibility of England, which had led to so 
many disasters on land, and had, in part, invited this arrogance. 
From a war, forced on it by the people, it was extremely anxious to 
escape. Mr. Gallatin, the then most prominent member of the Cabi- 
net, was eager for peace. Mr. Monroe, one of the v^rarmest friends 
of the Government, declared that " we ought to get out of the war 
as soon as we could." Mr. Madison himself, had not favored hos- 
tilities, and was desirous to secure peace as soon as possible ; but the 
conflict having once begun, he objected to any terms of conciliation 
which did not afford redress for all our old complaints. Hence, 
when Admiral Warren arrived at Halifax, in September, 1812, hav- 
mg been sent out principally to arrange an accommodation, the Pre- 
sident rejected the offered olive branch, because Great Britain re- 



NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE. 55 

fused to abandon her claim to impressment. The terms on which 
the United States were willing to treat, were a repeal of the orders 
in council, no revival of paper blockades, the cessation of impress- 
ments, and the immediate release of all American seamen from Bri- 
tish ships. England, on her part, rejected these conditions, and the 
war consequently went on. But the negotiations had not been with- 
out their effect on military operations, which, as we have seen, lan- 
guished on Lake Ontario during the whole autumn of 1812. 

Another abortive attempt at a reconciliation came in the following 
year, from an unexpected quarter. On the 20th of September, 1813, 
the Russian Government, then in close alliance with Great Britain, 
offered itself as a mediator between the belligerants. This was, in 
part, attributable to the diplomatic skill of Mr. Adams, the minister of 
the United States, at the court of St. Petersburg; in part the result of the 
Emperor's anxiety to secure for his subjects those commercial advan- 
tages which hostilitiesbetween the two greatest maritime powers on the 
globe prevented. This offer of mediation was rejected in London as 
soon as made known, the English ministry declining to submit to 
mediation, differences which they declared involved the internal go-' 
vernment of Great Britain. In the United States, however, the ten- 
der was promptly accepted, and Messrs. Gallatin and Bayard ap- 
pointed envoys, to unite with Mr. Adams in negotiating a peace. 
As all these gentlemen had been opposed to the war, their selection 
was pregnant with meaning, and men were now confident that 
peace would speedily be declared. The embassy arrived in the 
Baltic on the 21st of June, 1813, but met with disappointment. Eng- 
land, on the 1st of September, after again declining the mediation, 
offered, however, to appoint persons to hold conferences with the 
American embassy, and named Gottenburg as a suitable place for 
the meeting. As the Commissioners of the United States had no 
authority to treat, except under the mediation of Russia, it became 
necessary to await new powers, which did not reach Europe until 
the Spring of 1814. There can be no question but that the eager- 
ness shown by the United States for peace, frustrated its own wishes. 
Moreover, in proportion as this country grew more anxious for a re- 
conciliation, England became freed from her continental struggle, 
and more able to punish us. Hence, as our offers rose, her demands 
increased. But a re-action was now about to begin, which, in the 
short space of six months, was to make her as willing to accept as 
she had before been arrogant to decline our terms. 

The difficulty in the way of Mr. Madison's prosecution of the war, 
from the outset, had been the attitude of the New England states 



56 DISAFFECTION OF NEW ENGLAND. 

This wealthy, intelligent and influential section of the Union had al- 
ways been opposed to hostilities ; an(J had gone so far as to refuse 
to order out its militia on trie requisition of the President. In other 
ways, also, the New England states sought to embarrass military 
operations. In a republic like this, where public sentiment is the 
main spring of all movements, the influence wielded by the most in- 
telligent portion of the Union must ever be great. Hence, the senti- 
ments of New England made converts throughout the whole coun- 
try, especially in northern and western New York, where a large 
portion of the inhabitants were of New England origin. A favorite 
doctrine of those who opposed the war, was that the President had 
no right to employ militia for purposes of invasion ; and hence it fre- 
quently happened at the most critical emergencies, that this species 
of force refused to cross into Canada. This occurred at the battle of 
Queenstown. The knowledge of the prevailing sentiment in New 
England induced Great Britain, durmg the first two years virtually 
to exempt that section of the Union from hostilities. Meantime, a thri- 
ving traffic was carried on with Halifax, by the disaff*ected states; 
and large quantities of American flour were landed at that port, 
almost Aveekly ; at a time, too, when the article was scarce in the 
United States. To check this species of treasonable commerce. Con- 
gress, in December, 1813, passed an embargo law, but the trade still 
continued to exist, notwithstanding ; and accordingly, in April, the 
useless interdict was repealed. Thn hostihty of New England to- 
wards the war had such an influence on the earlier stages of its pro- 
gress, as to induce the retort on Dr. Eustis, Secretary of War, and 
himself from Boston, "that if New England had not been disaflect- 
ed, the United States could have taken Canada, the first 3^ear, by 
contract,''^ 

But, towards the close of 1813, sentiments in New England began 
to change. Nothing exercised a greater influence in producing this 
wholesome alteration than the barbarities committed by Admiral 
Cockburn, in the Chesapeake, but especially at Hampton. Hitherto 
it had been said in New England that we were the aggressors ; but 
after this invasion of our soil, and its attendant atrocities, public 
opinion turned. It was on this occasion (hat Henry Clay, then 
speaker of the House of Representatives, distinguished himself by 
one of those bursts of indignant eloquence, for which he was famed. 
Leaving the chair, he offered a resolution for the appointment of a 
committee to inquire into the departures of the enemy from the laws 
of war and humanity, and to embody a narra Jvo of these outrages 
in a public document to challenge the attention of all civilized na- 



GENERAL BROWN 57 

tions. The motion was carried, and in accordance with it a report 
made, which exercised an important influence in revolutionizing pub- 
he sentiment and inciting the nation to a vigorous prosecution of 
the war. 

The blockade of the New England coasts in the spring of 1814, 
conduced also to this result. A British squadron seized Eastport, 
in Maine,andretainedit until the close of the war. In April a squadron 
of the enemy ascended the Connecticut river as far as Pitdpaug Point, 
set on fire the village, and burned over twenty vessels that had taken 
refuge there. In August, the town of Stonington, towards the eastern 
extremity of Long Island Sound, was bombarded for three days, by 
Commodore Hardy, but without success. In September, the whole 
coast of Maine, from the Penobscot to Passamaquoddy Bay, was 
seized by the enemy, and a proclamation issued by him, declaring 
it conquered, and requiring the submission of the inhabitants to the 
British government. These successive outrages on its own soil roused 
the indignation of New England. The spirit of hostility there was 
still further increased, in the summer of 1814, by the invasion of the 
enemy along the route of Lake Champlain. 

We have thus traced the causes why it happened that, just as Eng- 
land was prepared to turn her undivided strength against the United 
States, the latter, for the first time during the war, became compe- 
tent for the struggle, and united in favor of its prosecution. At the 
moment when Great Britain loomed more colossal than ever across 
the Atlantic, the American republic, like a young Sampson, whose 
locks had grown again, stepped forth to the combat. In 1813, imbe- 
cile Generals, undisciplined troops, and divisions among the people 
had produced a harvest of defeat ; but when the campaign opened 
in 1814, all this had changed. Younger and abler leaders were at 
the head of the army ; the soldiers had been so thoroughly drilled 
as to be almost veterans ; and the Union was united. Added to 
this, the imposing attitude of the enemy called up each latent sinew 
on our part. It was felt by every American that, if the republic was 
defeated in another campaign, consequences the most disastrous, if 
not fatal, would ensue. 

Wilkinson had been succeeded in his command by General Izard ; 
but the latter,in the active measures of the campaign, gave place to Ge- 
neral Brown. This leader belonged to a new school in war. To seek 
the enemy, to fight him at odds, never to think of retreat, these 
maxims which are now cardinal points in the creed of an American 
army, first originated with General Brown. In this species of war 
rare he was ably sustained by General Scott, his second in command. 

8 



58 



BATTLE OF LUNDY's LANE. 



Resolving to take the initiative. General Brown, on the 2nd of July 
at midnight, embarked his troops from Black Rock, to attack Fort 
Erie. In the grey of the morning the astonished garrison beheld the 
Americans drawn up ready for an assault ; and knowing that resist- 
ance would be useless against such an overwhelming force, imme- 
diately surrendered. General Brown now pushed forward to Chip- 
pewa, where it was understood the British, under General Riall, 
were posted, to the number of three thousand. Here, on the 5th of 
July, the battle of Chippewa was fought, in which the enemy was 
signally defeated. The loss of the British, in this action, was one. 
hundred and thirty-three killed, three hundred and twenty wounded, 
and forty -six missing. The Americans lost sixty killed and two 
hundred and sixty-eight wounded and missing. The English troops 
in that portion of Canada now hastened to concentrate. On the 25th 
of July, General Brown, being informed that a detachment of the 
enemy had invaded the American soil, hurried General Scott for- 




BATTLB 0? LUNDY'S LANS. 



ward 10 attack the forts at the mouth of the Niagara, hoping by this 
diversion, to recall the foe to the Canadian shore. General Scott at 
the head of about thirteen hundred men only, came suddenly across 
a superior force of the enemy at Lundy's Lane, under Generals 
Drummond and Riall. Disdaining to retire, a sanguinary battle en- 



BATTLE OF FORT ERIE. 59 

Bued, which he maintained alone for two hours, until the arrival of 
General Brown with the remainder of the army. The latter officer 
immediately drew General Scott's brigade out of action, and com- 
mitted the contest to that of Ripley, which was fresh. The height 
at the head of the lane, where the enemy had posted a battery, and . 
which was the key of his position, was now gallantly carried by 
Colonel Miller, under the orders of General Brown. Several unsuc- 
cessful efforts were made by the foe to regain this- elevation. The 
combat, which began before dark, raged until midnight. By this 
time both Generals Brown and Scott had been wounded and forced 
to retire from the field. The command now devolved on General 
Ripley. The enemy being repulsed, Ripley concluded to retire to 
camp, whence, after refreshing his men, he was directed to march by 
daylight, and engage the foe. But, finding the enemy's force had 
been much increased during the night, Ripley thought it advisable 
to retreat, and accordingly retired to Fort Erie, destroying the 
bridges as he went. The loss of the British at Lundy's Lane was 
eighty-five killed, five hundred and fifty-five wounded, and two hun- 
dred and thirty -four missing. The Americans lost in killed, wounded 
and missing, eight hundred and sixty. 

Arrived at the fort, Ripley used the greatest exertions to strengthen 
its defences, before the enemy should arrive. On the 4th of August, 
General Drummond came up, and invested the place with five thou- 
sand men. The garrison was but sixteen hundred, commanded by 
General Gaines, who had been sent by General Brown to supersede 
Ripley. Having drawn their lines of circumvallation closer and 
closer, until, on the 13th of August, they had arrived within four 
hundred yards of the fort, the British began a furious bombardment 
and cannonade. At last, on the 15th, the enemy at two in the 
morning, advanced in three columns to assault the place. The con- 
flict was long and desperate. The British, at one time, obtained a 
lodgment in the fort, but were eventually driven out again, with 
great slaughter. The loss of the enemy was computed at nine hun- 
dred and fifteen. The American loss was only eighty-four. A 
fortnight afterwards. General Brown, having recovered partially 
from his wounds, arrived, and assumed command. Finding that the 
British continued to push forward the approaches. General Brown 
resolved to make a sortie, destroy the batteries, and cut off the ad- 
vanced division of the enemy. This bold undertaking was crowned 
with the most brilliant success. In thirty minutes, the Americans 
destroyed the labor of forty-seven days, took three hundred and 
eighty prisoners, and left five hundred of the enemy killed or 



go EXPEDITION TO DISMEMBER THE UNION 

wounded on the field. The loss of General Brown was seventy-nine 
killed, two hundred and thirty-two wounded, and two hundred and 
sixteen missmg. On the night of the 21st, the British raised the 
siege, and retired with their whole army. The Americans, how- 
ever, soon after abandoned Fort Erie of their own accord, and trans- 
porting themselves to the other shore, terminated the third invasion 
of Canada. This was done under the orders of General Izard, who, 
arriving at head quarters on the 9th of October, took command as 
superior officer. 

In the meantime, an expedition had been projected by the 
enemy, to dismember the Union by an invasion along the line of 
Lake Champlain. The scheme was not unlike that proposed by 
Burgoyne in the revolutionary war ; and, as at that time, the English 
officers boasted of the certainty of success. It was thought a portion 
of New York or New England, might be permanently annexed to 
the British crown ; and there were even those among the enemy 
who believed that the city of New York itself, would be captured by 
the expedition. The force collected for the purpose, boasted, indeed, 
tlireatening numbers. Napoleon having abdicated at Fontainbleau, 
in April, and the British troops in Europe being left without em- 
ployment, large detachments of them were shipped to Canada, where 
they arrived during the months of July and August, 1814, to the 
number of thirty -five thousand. After garrisoning the various posts, 
and despatching reinforcements to the Niagara, there remained about 
fourteeii thousand men, with whom the British General marched on 
Plattsburg, a town on the river Saranac, near its junction with 
Lake Champlain. 

The' whole force of the Americans left here, was but fifteen hun- 
dred, commanded by Brigadier General Macomb ; for General 
Izard, a few days before, had carried off with him most of the troops 
to Niagara. But Macomb was equal to the emergency : his genius 
made up for the want of soldiers. On the 6th of September, the 
enemy appeared before Plattsburg. After some sharp skirmishing, 
Macomb retired across the Saranac, to an entrenched /jamp on the 
opposite shore, tearing up the planks of the bridge as he retreated, 
and with them strengthening his defences. The enemy, attempting 
to follow him, was repulsed. From this day, until the 11th, the 
British contented themselves with erecting batteries opposite 
Macomb's position. Meantime, the foe was busily engaged in fitting 
out a fleet, with the intention of capturing that of McDonough, 
lying in Plattsburg bay. On the 18th, the Enghsh squadron appeared 
•n sight, ani bearing down on the American fleet, began the action. 



BURNING OF THE CAPITOL. 61 

Simultaneously, the land forces of the enemy attempted to carry 
Macomb's position, but were repulsed at every point of attack. 
Finally, the British ships being captured, and night approaching, 
the battle ceased. As soon as darkness had settled on the landscape, 
the enemy precipitately abandoned the field, and began a retreat. 
Thus, at the head of fifteen hundred regulars, and three thousand 
militia, Macomb defeated an army fourteen thousand strong, com- 
posed of the very eUte of the conquerors of the Peninsula. The loss 
of the American land forces was only ninety-nine, that of the fleet, 
one hundred and ten. The British squadron lost in killed, wounded, 
prisoners, and missing, one thousand and fifty ; their army was di- 
mmished by the same casual ities, at least twenty-five hundred. 

In another quarter of the United States, however, an invasion of 
the enemy was more successful. In August, an expedition destined 
to act against Washington appeared in the Chesapeake, and having 
effected a landing at Benedict, on the Patuxent, began its march 
towards the Caphal. The force of the British was about five thou- 
sand, commanded by General Ross. The Americans, to the number 
of three thousand, more than half of whom were militia, were led 
by General Winder, who, finding it impossible to make head against 
the enemy, fell back to Bladensburg, where, on the 24th, he was 
joined by a reinforcement of twenty-one hundred men, exclusive of 
Commodore Barney, at the head of his marines. Here the Ameri- 
cans made a stand. But the armies were too nearly equal in num- 
ber to allow the invading one to be defeated by the illy disciplined 
levies of General Winder. The only portion of the field properly 
contested, was that occupied by Commodore Barney and his marines. 
These poured such a destructive fire into the enemy, flushed from 
the easy defeat of the militia, that he staggered, and was thrown into 
momentary confusion. A few more such brave marines, or another 
Barney at the opposite side of the field, would have saved the day. 
But General Ross perceiving the scanty numbers of these troops, 
poured his columns upon them, and charging them on both flanks 
and in front, simultaneously, gained the victory. Barney fell 
wounded into the hands of the foe, as did also Colonel Miller, of the 
marines. Meantime, the militia fled, panic-struck, in all directions, 
abandoning Washington to the enemy. General Ross, following up 
his success, entered the capital that evening, and proceeded with 
Vandal barbarity to burn the public buildings. The Capitol, the 
President's mansion, the ' War, Treasury, and Navy offices, shared 
this fate. The old excuse of the burning of Newark, in Canada, was 
offered for this outrage ; a better one would have been that the Qon 



62 



ASSAULT UPON FORT MC HENRY. 



querors. so lately from the Peninsula, had become debauched by the 
wars of Europe. To men brutalized by a long series of hostilities in 
a half savage country ; to men who had sacked Badajoz, and ravaged 
half of Spain ; the wanton destruction of an enemy's Capitol, ap- 
peared a slight offence against civilization and humanity. It is the 
proud boast of America, that under similar circumstances, and when 
th<3 siege was infinitely more irritating, the public edifices of Mexico 
were sacredly respected. 

The British retired from Washington on the evening of the 25th, 
and on the 29th, embarked from Benedict. Their loss in this expe- 
dition is estimated at four hundred killed or wounded ; while it is 
believed five hundred deserted, or were made prisoners. Simulta- 
neously with this attack upon the Capital, two other detachments 
had been sent out from the fleet, one against Alexandria, the other 
up the Chesapeake. The attack on Alexandria proved successful, 
and the town was preserved from the torch only by the sacrifice of 
all its vessels and merchandize. The foray up the Chesapeake was 
more unfortunate for the British. Near Bellair, Sir Peter Parker, 
who led the expedition, landed to assault a body of militia, but was 




FOST MC HENEY. 



driven back, receiving a wound, by which he died in a few minutes, 
'^'he enemy, flushed with success at Washington, now moved upon 



OPERATIONS IN CHESAPEAKE BAT. 69 

Baltimore, where he expected as easy a triumph, and a richer prize , 
for it was now a maxim with the invaders only to attack for the 
purpose of booty. But meantime, the country was rising to its de- 
fence. In an incredibly short interval, fifteen thousand armed men 
had been collected at Baltimore, under the command of General 
Samuel Smith, an officer of the Revolution, in whom tlie fire of 
military genius had not yet suffered diminution. Batteries were 
hastily erected, and a ditch dug on the eastern side of the town ; the 
only line where it was available by land. Ten thousand men were 
stationed to defend these works. The approach to Baltimore by 
water was guarded by Fort McFienry, by obstructions sunk in the 
channel of the river, and by two heavily constructed batteries be- 
tween FortMcHenry and the city. 

On the 12th of September, the enemy debarked his land forces, to 
the number of five thousand men, at North Point, fourteen miles 
below Baltimore. A detachment twenty-two hundred strong, under 
General Strieker, having been sent forward in anticipation of this land- 
ing, to skirmish with the enemy and impede his progress, a sort of 
running action began, which continued throughout the day ; the 
Americans slowly retreating before the superior numbers of the Bri- 
tish. During the early part of the combat. General Ross, the Eng- 
lish commander, was killed. By evening, General Strieker had re- 
tired to within half a mile of the American entrenchments, where he 
rested. On the ensuing day, the enemy was seen moving in heavy 
masses to the right, as if intending to reach the city by a circuitous 
route, but General Smith, concentrating his forces in that direction, 
frustrated the design. Night fell, when the enemy took post within 
a mile of the works, intending to storm them as soon as the attack 
by water had succeeded. 

Here, however, the British met with an unexpected repulse. The 
bombardment of Fort McHenry began at sunrise, on the 13th, and 
continued throughout that day and the succeeding night, though 
without reducing the fortress. Under cover of the darkness, several 
rocket vessels and barges ascended past Fort McHenry, but being 
detected, were received with a heavy cannonade. They maintained 
their course, however, until they arrived opposite the lesser forts, 
where they met such a deadly fire that they hastened to retire — one 
of their flotilla being sunk with ail on board. When morning dawned, 
a consultation was held between the commanders of the English fleet 
and army, and the resolution taken to abandon the expedition. Ac- 
cordingly, the troops retired to North Point, where they embarked 
"the same evening, and on the morning of the 15th, the people of 



g4 ATTACK ON FORT BOWTER, 

Baltimore were gladdened by the sight of the English sails, whiten 
ing the bay, in their retreat. The British lost in this affair about 
three hundred ; the Americans, two hundred and thirteen. During 
ihe whole series of operations the militia behaved with the greatest 
spirit, and amply redeemed the conduct of the same species of force 
at Bladensburg. Indeed, the whole number of regulars at Balti- 
more, exclusive of marines, was but seven hundred. 

The enemy had projected, simultaneously with this attack, an 
expedition against our southern waters. Towards the close of 
August, General Jackson, whose head-quarters had been at Mobile 
since the termination of the Creek war, received intelligence that an 
EngUsh squadron had appeared at Pensacola, where it was harbored 
by the Spanish Governor. Information was also obtained that a 
second squadron, accompanied by ten thousand troops, was soon to 
arrive at Pensacola, whence a descent was to be made on some con- 
venient point on the American coast, most probably New Orleans. 
General Jackson, having vainly remonstrated with the Governor of 
Pensacola, for receiving and granting assistance to the British, now 
proceeded to call on the neighboring states for reinforcements, with 
the intention of punishing this infraction of the law of nations. 
Meanwhile, Colonel Nichols, the Commander of the enemy's forces, 
issued a proclamation, supremely ridiculous considering the circum- 
stances, calling on the people of Louisiana, Tennessee and Kentucky, 
to " throw off the yoke under which they had been so long groan- 
ing." Simultaneously, also, he attempted to enlist in his service a 
band of nautical marauders, half smugglers, half pirates, who had 
formed quite an extensive settlement at the island of Barrataria, on 
the coast of Louisiana. These lawless men were commanded by a 
person named Lafitte. This individual, instead of accepting the 
terms of Colonel Nichols, revealed them to the Governor of Louisi- 
ana, at the same time communicating important information respect- 
ing the designs of the British. Lafitte was offered, in return, an 
amnesty for himself and followers, if he would join the Americans. 
This proposition was accepted, and the haunt at Barrataria broken 
up. Subsequently, at the siege of New Orleans, Lafitte and his 
men rendered important services. 

On the 15th of September, while General Jackson was awaiting 
reinforcements at Mobile, a British squadron appeared off Fort 
Rowy»j:, thirty miles below the town, and immediately began an 
attack. A tremendous cannonade, on both sides, was continued for 
three hours, when the enemy's squadron retired, having suffered 
immense slaughter. The flag-ship ran aground, and was set on fire ' 



DEFENCE OF NEW ORLEANS. 6^ 

by ber surviving crew ; for out of one hundred and seventy men in 
her, only the Captain and twenty escaped. At the moment of the 
naval attack, Colonel Nichols, with a force of three hundred and 
thirty British and Indians was debarked for a land attack ; but the 
tire of the fort soon destroyed all hopes of his success, and, after the 
retreat of the squadron, he retired to Pensacola by land. Thither, 
on the 6th of November, General Jackson, having been reinforced 
by two thousand Tennessee militia, followed him ; and immediately 
despatched a flag to the Governor of Pensacola, demanding redress 
for his late conduct. The flag was fired on and compelled to retire. 
On the following day. General Jackson stormed the town, and after 
capturing one of the batteries, forced the Governor to capitulate, 
[n consequence of the loss of Pensacola, the British left the bay, and 
General Jackson returned to Mobile. 

The design of the enemy to attack New Orleans having now be- 
come public, General Jackson hurried to assume the command of that 
important post. He left Mobile accordingly on the 22nd of Novem- 
ber, and reached his destination on the 2nd of December. His 
presence was the salvation of the city. He found, on his arrival, 
that scarcely any preparations had been made to repel the projected 
invasion ; and that the most vigorous measures would be necessary 
in consequence, to place the town and its approaches in a state of 
defence. Moreover the city was full of disafl'ected persons, who 
carried intelUgence almost daily to the enemy. To check these 
treasonable practices, as "well as to give him that despotic control 
over the labor of the citizens, which was necessary in the emergen- 
cy, he applied to the Legislature to repeal the habeas corpus act. 
The Legislature hesitated. As no time was to be lost, General 
Jackson cut short further discussion by proclaiming martial law. 
The inhabitants were now ordered down to the lines, to work on the 
fortifications, without regard to their wealth. The whole country 
by which the city could be approached was personally examined 
by the General, and defences constructed at all proper points. These 
preparations were increased when a fleet of gun-boats, on which the 
General had placed much dependence, was attacked in the lakes to 
the east of the city, and overcome by superior forces. In a word, 
General Jackson availed himself to their utmost extent of all the 
materials for defence within his reach ; and by his promptitude, 
energy, and vast resources of mind, infused confidence into botli 
citizens and army. 

On the 5th of December, the enemy had first appeared off the 
coast; on the 14th he had captured the American gun-boats; and 
VI* 9 



66 BATTLE OP NEW ORLEANS. 

on the 23rd, availing himself of a pass, called the Bayou Bienvenne, 
which unfortunately had been left unguarded, he fell on an advanced 
guard of the Americans, made its members prisoners, and pushing, 
rapidly on, reached the bank of the Mississippi at two o'clock in the 
afternoon. The road to the city was now open before him. In this 
fcrisis, General Jackson, instead of waiting to be attacked, resolved 
boldly to march out and assail the British. He arrived at their 
position about five o'clock. Their flank being exposed to the water, 
Commodore Patterson's armed schooner, the Caroline, was sent, 
under cover of the night, to assail it, which was done, the guns 
being aimed by the British watch-fires. Tliis was the first intima- 
tion the foe had of his danger. Simultaneously the American land 
forces attacked the right, centre and left, of the enemy. His camp 
was carried on the right, and the slaughter along his front was ex- 
cessive. But, extinguishing their watch-fires, the British rallied to 
the combat, when a close and well contested combat ensued. In 
the end. General Jackson drew off" his men in consequence of a 
dense fog. He lay on the field all night, but thought it most pru- 
dent to retire in the morning to a stronger position, two miles nearer 
the city. In this action, the enemy numbered about three thousand. 
The loss of the Americans, in killed, wounded and missing, was two 
hundred and thirteen : that of the British two hundred and eighty- 
two. This battle may be said to have decided the fate of New Or- 
leans. It inspired confidence among the Americans, while it fore- 
warned the enemy that his expedition was to produce more hard 
blows than booty. 

In his new position, which, strong by nature, was rendered stronger 
by art, General Jackson leisurely awaited the approach of the foe. 
On the 28th, the main body of the British having landed, their com- 
mander, Sir Edward Packenham, advanced within half a mile of 
the American works and began a bombardment and cannonade. 
The American batteries replied, however, with such spirit, and were 
so well sustained by an armed vessel in the river, that the enemy 
retired with loss. On the 1st of January, another unsuccessful at- 
tempt was made on General Jackson's lines. Between this and the 
8th, each army received accessions of force, so that the American 
numbers were raised to seven thousand, and the British to twelve 
thousand. On the morning of that day Sir Edward Packenham 
made a grand assault on his enemy's lines ; but notwithstanding his 
troops were all tried veterans, and those of Jackson raw militia, in- 
diff'erently armed, he was repulsed with immense slaughter. The 
loss of the Americans was but seventy-one in killed, wounded and 



COMMODORE PORTER IN THE PACIFIC. 87 

missing. The British lost two hundred and ninety-three killed, 
twelve hundred and sixty-seven wounded, and four hundred and 
3ighty-four prisoners and missing. The mortality among their officers 
was excessive, Sir Edward Packenham beingamong the killed. We 
cannot record his death without a reflection on the chances of for- 
tune. It had been originally intended that the Duke of Weihngton 
should lead the expedition against New Orleans ; and, had this hap- 
pened, that great General might have perished in Packenham's place, 
and Waterloo never have been won ! 

The British now hastened to abandon their enterprise. Embark- 
ing their troops they retired to Fort Bowyer, which surrendered to 
this immense force. Here they remamed until the news of peace, 
which arrived in the following month. It was doubly fortunate for 
the United States that the expedition against New Orleans had failed, 
since, tempted by the possession of so great a prize, the enemy might 
have found some excuse for setting aside the treaty of Ghent. In 
that event a long and sanguinary war on the Mississippi must have 
followed, and though America would eventually have triumphed, 
because fighting on her own soil, the victory could only have been 
purchased by an immense expenditure of blood and treasure. The 
battle of New Orleans was the closing act of the drama. It remains 
for us only to notice the treaty of Ghent, before bringing this narra- 
tive to an end. Yet, preliminary to doing this, let us pass in hasty 
review the naval history of 1814. 

Towards the close of 1812, Commodore Porter, in the frigate Es- 
sex, had sailed from the Delaware. Missing a rendezvous with 
Bainbridge, at Brazil, he proceeded, pursuant to a discretion vested 
in htm, around Cape Horn, and began a war on the British com- 
merce in the Pacific. He remained in this quarter of the globe for 
more than twelve months, during which he lived at the enemy's ex- 
pense, and captured twenty vessels, carrying in all one hundred and 
seven guns. The value of these prizes was estimated at two and a half 
millions of dollars. At last, in March, 1814, while lying at Valparaiso, 
the British frigate Phoebe, carrying thirty-eight guns, and a sloop of war 
which had been fitted out expressly to capture Porter, appeared off the 
port. In a few days the Essex, attempting to get to sea, carried away 
her main-top mast. Unable to return into harbor, she anchored near 
the shore. The English shipsnow attacked her, and placing themselvetJ 
out of reach of her cannonades, opened with their long guns, of which 
fortunately for them, their armament was composed. Disabled from 
manoeuvreing, and exposed to a fire he could but feebly return, for 
he had bui three long twelve-pounders. Porter was finally compelled 



68 NAVAL BATTLES. 

to surrender. He lost fifty-eight killed, and sixty-six wounded ; the 
British losing but five killed and ten wounded. This battle was 
fought on neutral waters, and was therefore a violation of the laws 
of nations; but England has never hesitated to act in a similar man- 
ner when her interest required it. 

This reverse was followed, however, by numerous victories. 
The sloop-of-war Peacock, Captain Warrington, on the 29th of 
April, 1814, captured the British brig-of-war Epervier, of about 
equal force. In this action the enemy lost eight killed, and fifteen 
wounded ; the Americans only two wounded. On the 28th of 
June, the sloop of-war Wasp, Captain Blakely, captured the Rein- 
deer, of slightly superior force, after one of the most hotly contested 
naval engagements of the war. The British lost twenty-five killed, 
including their captain, and forty -two wounded ; the Americans lost 
five killed, and twenty -one wounded. On the first of September, 
Captain Blakely took the Avon, a sloop-of-war of twenty guns. On 
the 23d, he captured a British brig, the Atalanta, which he sent into 
the United States. From that day to this, nothing has ever been 
heard of the gallant Blakely, or his ship. They probably perished 
ill a tempest. 

The war was now virtually over, since peace had been concluded 
at Ghent, but this being as yet unknown, the naval combats continued. 
On the 14th of January, 1815, in gallantly attempting to get out of 
New York harbor. Commodore Decatur, in thb President, was pur- 
sued and captured by the British blockading squadron. In this action 
the Americans lost twenty-four killed, and fifty-five wounded. On 
the 20th of February, Commodore Stewart, in the Constitution, took 
the Cyane and Levant — the first of thirty-four guns, the last of 
twenty -two. The loss of the British was seventy-seven in killed and 
wounded ; that of the Americans fifteen. On the 23d of March, the 
Hornet, a sloop-of-war, of eighteen guns, commanded by Captain 
Biddle, captured the British brig-of-war Penguin, of nineteen guns. 
In this action the enemy lost forty-two in killed and wounded ; the 
Hornet twelve. 

We have already narrated the offer of Russia to mediate between 
England and the United Spates ; the refusal of the former to accept 
this mediation ; her agreement, however, to appoint commissioners to 
treat of a peace ; and the alteration in the powers of the American em- 
bassy, to enable them to act under these new circumstances. In the 
Spring of 1814, these powers were sent to Europe, and Henry Clay 
and Jonathan Russell added to the United States Commissioners 
The place of meeting was first appointed at Gottenburg, but finally 



TREATY OF PEACE. 69 

changed to Ghent. The British plenipotentiaries arrived at the latter 
place on the 6th of August, but showed little earnestness for a treaty 
until after the news of Chippewa, Lundy's Lane, Plattsburg, and Bal- 
timore. On intelligence of these events, foreboding a long, and pro- 
bably disastrous war, the high tone of the English Commissioners 
lowered, and on the 24th of December, 1814, a treaty was finally 
signed. In this document, no notice was taken of the question 
of impressment, which appears a singular circumstance at first sight; 
but we have endeavored to explain the reasons for the omission in 
the first book of this narrative. The articles of the treaty provided 
for the restoration of all possessions taken by either power, during 
the war, with the exception of the islands in the Bay of Passama- 
quoddy, whose destination was to be referred to arbitrators. Various 
questions of boundar^^ were left to be decided in the same way. 
Both parties agreed to desist from warfare with all tribes of Indians 
with whom they were engaged in hostilities, provided such tribes 
ceased warlike operations, on being notified of the treaty. By 
another article, England and the United States stipulated to do all 
they could to abolish the slave trades. Other provisions were in- 
serted in the treaty, but they related chiefly to prizes and prisoners, 
and were such as are usual on all like occasions. This treaty was 
ratified by England, on the 28th of December, 1814, and by the Uni- 
ted States on the 17th of February, 1815. A commercial treaty was 
subsequently negotiated between the two countries during the 
year 1815. 

Thus closed a war in which little was nominally gained, but much 
in reality. By it, indeed, the United States consummated their inde- 
pendence, which hitherto, so far as regarded England at least, had 
not fully existed. In other words, the war of 1812, freed the popu- 
lar mind in America, from a sort of provincial reverence for Great 
Britain. It also removed that dread of her military prowess which 
had descended from the revolutionary epoch, but which was wholly 
unbecoming a nation so vigorous as the United States had since 
become. It is not too much to say that the military spirit of the 
Republic, which has since shone with such brilliancy, had its birth 
in the war of 1812. 

The early misfortunes of the war, considered in this light, were 
not without their benefits. They forced the nation to put forth its 
whole strength, and thus developed a capacity, of the existence of 
which, even she had been ignorant. From that hour the United 
States took a prouder stand among the nations of the earth. From 
that hour her flag was respected. More than thirty years have 



70 



TREATY OP PEACE. 



elapsed since the treaty of Ghent, yet England has never rw 
newed her claim of impressment, nor is it probable that she 
ever will 





WILLIAM HULL 



HAT it required the wa. 
of 1812 to consummate 
our independence, is 
proved by the military 
operations which led to 
the surrender of Detroit, 
Our enterprise and saga- 
city in commerce was 
admitted; but even a 
portion of our own citi- 
zens laughed at our pre- 
tensions to arms. It was 
said that we could not withstand the power of Great Britain for six 
months. An uneasy feeling of provincial weakness, and a profound 
awe of our old enemy possessed, in part, the public mind, and espe- 
cially influenced those oflicers who, by their rank, services and ex- 
perience, would naturally be looked to in the emergency of war. 
Hence, during the earlier periods of the contest, most of our Generals 
•^.garded any attempt to overthrow the veteran armies oi England 
vn ' "^ 10 78 




74 WILLIAM HULL. 

as worse than useless. Mistrusting their troops, but most of all 
themselves, they invited defeat by their moral cowardice. In no 
other manner can we explain the conduct of General William Hull, 
in the surrender of Detroit. With his overpowering force he ought 
to have been confident of success. It is now apparent, that if he had 
put on a bold front, he would have achieved a glorious triumph ; 
opened tlie war with eclat; and forced Great Britain, two years 
earlier, U\ listen to terms of peace. He was conquered by his own 
fears, not by the prowess of the enemy. 

William Hull was born in 1753, and served, with some distinction, 
in the War of Independence, as an officer in the continental line. 
He was present in several of the hardest fought battles of that period^ 
and distinguished himself uniformly as a soldier of spirit, industry 
and bravery. He rendered himself especially conspicuous on the 
glorious field of Saratoga, and afterwards at Stony Point. On his 
retirement from the army, Hull settled in Massachusetts, where, in 
1796, he was chosen a Major-General of the state militia. Like 
others of the officers of the Revolution, he sought and obtained em- 
ployment from the Federal Government; for, in 1805, he was ap- 
pointed Governor of Michigan Territory. This office he continued 
to hold until his disgrace and ruin. When, in 1812, it became 
probable that vv^ar would be declared with Great Britian, an army, 
to be composed chiefly of volunteers and militia, was ordered to be 
raised on the north-western frontier, for the two-fold purpose of 
holding the Indians in check, and opening the expected contest with 
eclat. The command of this force was bestowed on Hull, with the 
rank of Brigadier-General in the United States army. The soldiers 
mustered at Dayton, in Ohio, on the 1st of June, 1812, and, after a 
long and toilsome march, reached the Miami of the Lake on the 30th 
of the month. Here Hull received a despatch from the war oflice, 
requesting him to quicken his movements. Accordingl}^ he embarked 
his baggage, stores, sick and convalescent, in a vessel bound for De- 
troit, continuing his march with the main body of the army by land. 
Up to this period he had received no intimation of the declaration 
of hostilitiesya culpable negligence on the part of our government which 
has never been properly explained. But the day after the embarka- 
tion of the stores, a letter arrived from the Secretary of War, written 
under the same date as that to which we have alluded, and which 
Hull had received several days before by a special messenger. He 
now pressed forward to the River Raisin, alarmed for the safety of 
his stores. Here his fears were verified. He learned that the Bri 
tish had received intelligence of the declaration of war, at all theii 



WILLIAM HULL. 75 

posts, in advance of himself; and that in consequence his stores had 
been captured in passing the fort at Maiden. This disaster, so early 
in the campaign, like an ill omen weighed on his spirits from that 
hour. 

Pursuing his march he soon reached Detroit, and immediately 
proceeded, under instructions from the war office, to invade Canada 
Indeed, in the United States, the most sanguine expectations had 
already been formed of the result of his expedition : but these, how- 
ever, were not common to all classes ; large numbers, affected by 
the feeling we have alluded to, doubted secretly of his success. On 
the 12th of July he crossed the river Detroit, and pitched his camp 
at Sandwich, with the professed inlention of marching against Mai- 
den, a post which it was of importance to reduce, since it lay in the 
way to intercept all supplies forwarded from the United States. 
There can be no doubt, if Hull had pushed forward at once to Mai- 
den, that the place would have surrendered. The fort there was in 
a most dilapidated condition, nor was it until a week later that it 
was rendered defensible ; the garrison numbered but seven hundred 
men, of which six hundred were lukewarm militia, and indifferent 
savages ; and, to add to the chances of success, the population of 
the neighborhood was very generally disaffected, and ready, as were 
also the Indians of the vicinity, to join whatever side promised, by 
a successful first blow, to gain the ascendancy. Only eighteen 
miles interposed between Hull and Maiden. A rapid summer day's 
march would have brought him to the gates of his enemy. He had 
nearly two men where his opponent had one. Yet he lingered 
for three weeks at Sandwich without striking a blow. There are 
few things in history as inexplicable as this conduct, and nothing 
but the solution we have given can unriddle it. 

'His behavior appears the more singular when we come to follow 
the transactions of these three weeks into detail. During his stay at 
Sandwich different detachments penetrated the country sixty miles 
into the interior, and everywhere found the inhabitants friendly. 
The royal militia at Ahmetsburg, opposite Maiden, was daily desert- 
ing. Nor was this all. A party of American soldiers, commanded 
by Colonels Cass and Miller, on the 16th of July, assailed a British 
oupost at the bridge over the Canard, a river but four miles distant 
from Maiden, and drove the picket back upon the fort, where the 
fugitives arrived panic-struck, spreading terror and confusion among 
the garrison. The enemy, satisfied that Hull was advancing with 
all his strength, knew scarcely what to do ; and had there been a 
sufficient force at hand to take advantage of this dismay, Maiden 



7» WILLIAM HULL. 

WO aid have fallen before sunset. Even on the ensuing morning, 
when the enemy had partially recovered from his alarm, if Hull had 
brought up all his troops, and made a vigorous attack, the place 
must have surrendered. But, instead of doing this, he sharply 
reprehended Cass and Miller for having exceeded orders in making 
'.heir attack, and directed that they should immediately return to camp, 
•unless they were prepared to assume all the responsibility of holding 
their position, and that, too, wit' iout reinforcements. Perhaps age, as 
well as dread of British prowess, had something to do with this con- 
duct. To quote the epigramatic remark of another, '*' he who, in 1777, 
would have fought or died without care, in 1812, with not much of 
life left, was fearful of losing that Uttie.'^ 

Yet his mind evidently vacillated, and for a space he appeared to 
have regained a portion of his old daring. In fact, the strictures of 
his younger officers had reached his ears, and he began to show a 
disposition for more vigorous measures. He gave out that he 
would lead the army directly to Maiden. There seems, indeed, no 
reason to doubt the sincerity of his intentions. The artillery for 
which he had waited, was now ready. It had been proved by the 
affair at Canard, that the British were not invincible. His troops, to 
a man, were eager to be led forward. Accordingly, the ammunition 
was placed in wagons, the cannon iixed on floating batteries, and 
every other preparation for the attack made. But, at this point Hull 
stopped, and became suddenly irresolute. He had just received in- 
teUigence of the fall of Mackinaw, a fort situated on the island of 
that name, commanding the passage between Lakes Huron and 
Michigan, which had been surprised by the enemy, its commandant 
receiving the first intimation of the war on his surrender. This dis- 
astrous news was backed by information of the rising of the Cana- 
dians and Indians, both of whom, foreseeing Hull's fall in his inac- 
tivity, began to take arms for the British. The very thought that 
by advancing and sustaining a defeat, his army might become a prey 
to the savages filled his mind with horror. He countermanded his 
orders, and re-crossed the river to Detroit, on the 7th of August. 

He had begun his career in the Canadian territory by a vaunting 
proclamation ; he finished it by a temerity which made him the scorn 
even of his own troops. He had commenced with the inhabitants 
favorable to him ; he ended by alienating them forever. Far differ 
ent was the conduct of General Brock, the British commander in that 
region. Receiving intelligence on the 25th of June, of the declara- 
tion of war, he hastened to plan the capture of Fort Mackinaw, and 
his scheme having been crowned with success, his audacity in 



WILLIAM HULL. 77 

creased, and he conceived the idea, not only of driving Hull from 
Canada, hut of capturing him within the territories of the United' 
States. Brock, indeed, seems to have despised his adversary as much 
as the latter feared Brock. In furtherance of his design, Brock 
superseded Colonel St. George in the command of the district, and 
appointed in his place Colonel Proctor, a skilful officer, obedient, 
active, daring, and unscrupulous. The wisdom of his choice was 
soon vindicated, for Hull, having sent out a detachment of two hun- 
dred men to open his rear for a convoy, Proctor, ever on the 
watch, fell on the party, and totally routed it, with the loss of nearly 
seventy men. A second detachment, led by Colonel Miller, was 
more successful, defeating the British, and routing their Indian ally, 
Tecumseh ; but this body Hull refused to support after its victory, 
jind finally commanded its return to camp, where it arrived just in 
time to be included in the surrender. 

As Hull retreated. Brock had advanced, and on the 14th of August, 
took post at Sandwich, opposite his adversary's camp. Here he threw 
up a battery, Hull refusing to annoy him. In vain the American 
officers solicited permission to open a fire on their enemy ; in vain 
they desired to be led to the charge, in order to spike his cannon. A 
mortal terror of his foe seemed now to have seized Hull. The vision 
of defeat constantly pursued him, and the sanguinary tomahawk was 
ever present to his fancy. He would, even at this early stage, have 
grasped at a truce, as the only hope of safety. '' If you will give 
permission," said the brave Dalliba, "I will clear the enemy on the 
opposite shore from the lower batteries." " Mr. Dalliba," said the 
weak old man, " I will make an agreement with the enemy, that if 
they Avill not fire on me, I will not fire on them." Even the success 
of Colonel Miller's detachment could not inspire him with hope. 
" Nothing has been gained by it but honor," he said despondingly, 
" and the blood of seventy-five men has been shed in vain." A per- 
son in such a frame of mind, was ill fitted to cope with a General as 
enterprising and bold as Brock. It needed the impetuosity of youth 
in that crisis, not the drivelling caution of old age. A Croghan 
would have saved the day, which a Hull ignominiously lost. 

On the 15th, Brock sent a boat across the river, with a summons 
of unconditional surrender. It found Hull in a moment of re-action, 
and he returned a spirited refusal. The refusal had scarcely been 
transmitted, however, before he regretted it. Brock appears to have 
read his adversary's character thoroughly. An enemy, under ordi 
nary circumstances, would have taken some precautions, in crossing 
a hostile river, with an inferior force ; but though the British Gene- 

VII* 



78 WILLIAM HULL. 

ral had only twelve hundred men, and Hull thirteen hundred and 
fifty, the former boldly embarked in broad day, under cover merely 
of a slight cannonade. No attempt was made to oppose his landing. 
The American leader had already expressed to several of his officers 
an opinion that a capitulation would be necessary ; and accordingly 
when Brock drew up his troops, and marched to the assault, orders 
were sent to the advanced parties not to fire. The command was 
heard with indignation. Tears of shame and rage rose to the eyes 
of the men, and the officers talked of marching back and displacing 
their commander. But it was now too late. 

The position of the army would have warranted a defence against 
twice the numbers of the enemy. The fort, a work of regular form 
and great solidity, surrounded by a wide and deep ditch, strongly 
fraised and palisaded, was defended by two twenty-four pounders, 
and a garrison of four hundred artillerists and infantry of the line. 
The town was held by three hundred Michigan militia, eager to de- 
fend their firesides, and well protected by the houses. Flanking the 
approach to the fort, and covered by a high and heavy picket-fence, 
were four hundred Ohio volunteers, all expert marksmen, all indig- 
nant at the retreat, all athirst for glory ! To add to this, the detach- 
ment under Colonel Miller, which we have already spoken of as or- 
dered back to camp, was within a mile and a half, stretching for- 
ward directly in the enemy's rear, with every nerve strained at 
&ound of the cannOn. Not a man in the American lines but was 
anxious for the contest. Only one hesitated, and he the leader ! 
It is said that surrounded by the ladies of his family, who besought him 
with tears to save them from the savages by a timely surrender, he 
sat for a while irresolute, blushing with shame at the proposed ca- 
pitulation. But at last rising with trembling limbs he ordered 
the white flag to be hoisted, the troops to stack their arms, and the 
outer positions to be given up. No council of war was summoned. 
No advice was asked of a single officer. For once he took all the 
responsibility on his own shoulders ; but it was one which covered 
his name with eternal infamy ! 

The capitulation which followed was announced amid the execra- 
tions of the troops, the sullen silence of the militia, and the slinging 
reproaches of the women of Detroit. It was such a one as might 
have been expected from Hull's panic. Everything was given up, 
even more than was asked. Not only the territory, in its length and 
breadth, was yielded to the enemy,but the supplies at the river Ral 
sin, and the absent detachment were included in the surrender. This 
was done, moreover, at the suggestion of Hull himself. He seemed 



WILLIAM HULL. 79 

to be guided by a morbid desire to save blood, and to crave his an- 
tagonist's mercy by abandoning everything to him. He engaged that 
the miUtia should not serve again until exchanged. Yet he forgot to 
make any stipulation in favor of the Canadians who had joined his 
army ; but sacrificed them to the anger of the enemy. In short, the 
whole capitulation betrayed the panic in which it had its origin. 
Hull's surrender, as one of his cotemporaries remarked, was the re- 
sult of " an ignorance that knew not what to do ; of a self-sufficiency 
refusing to be instructed ; and of a cowardice that in its terrors, lost 
all sense of national interest, personal dignity and professional duty." 
As for Brock, he could scarcely conceal his surprise at this wonder- 
ful success. " I hasten to apprize your excellency," he said, writing 
to his superior, Prevost, " of the capture of this very important post. 
Twenty-five hundred prisoners have this day surrendered prisoners of 
war, and about twenty-five pieces of ordnance have been taken with- 
out the sacrifice of of a drop of British blood. I had not mure than 
six hundred troops, including militia, and about six hundred Indians 
to accomplish this service. JVhen I detail my good fortune your 
excellency will he astonished.^ ^ 

Yet Hull can scarcely be called a coward in the ordinary sense of 
the term. Cowardice is applied in military aff'airs at least, to physical 
rather than to moral terror. There are many men willing to brave 
death on the battlefield, who shrink from assuming responsibility in 
critical and uncertain emergencies. Hull had fought bravely in the 
revolutionary war, and would probably have fought bravely again 
as a subordinate. Had he been a Colonel in the north-western army, 
with a Jackson at its head, a portion of the inflexible character of 
his superior might have been imparted to him. His whole career 
proves that though brave enough when he could lean on others, 
he was not accustomed to depending on himself. Personally he had 
no fear of death ; but he shrank from the responsibility of bringing it 
on others. It is probable that if there had been no Indians in the 
British army, he might have made a bolder stand, for dread of the 
savages was a prevailing feature of that day. But the conviction 
that England was invincible, and that it was a waste of blood and 
treasure to combat her, seems to have been the leading cause which 
produced Hull's surrender. He began the campaign with uneasy 
fears of her superiority, and these fears were increased by the bold 
and dashing enterprise on Mackinaw. It has been well remarked 
that, from the day that fort fell, Hull was conquered. 

The news of the capitulation at Detroit was received in the United 
States with incredulity at first, and subsequently with curses of rage 



go WILLIAM HULL. 

and shame. The astonishment of the people, who had expected to 
hear of the conquest of all Canada, could not have been greater. A 
re-action from hope to despair was the consequence. Those who 
had been most confident became the most desponding. The cry was 
that the war would ruin us. The New England states, which had 
denounced the invasion of Canada as unjust and irreligious, pointed 
to the late disaster as a rebuke sent by Providence, and exhorted the 
mihtia to refuse crossing the border. Never, perhaps, since the War 
of Independence, and in the period immediately preceding the battle 
of Trenton, was the public mind so despondent. But suddenly news 
ame of a victory, so unexpected, so brilliant, so far beyond ordina- 
ry calculation, that the nation w^as flung into transports of joy. We 
allude to the capture of the Guerriere. The fall of Detroit now 
ceased to call the blush of shame to American cheeks, for it was 
more than set off, in the popular estimation, by this triumph. If the 
flag of the republic had been trailed in the dust on the north-western 
frontier, the red cross of Britain had been struck down on her jnative 
element, the sea ! 

So great was the public indignation at Hull's surrender, that, for 
a while, he was regarded as a traitor, who had sold his country to 
the enemy. He had been carried, with his officers, to Montreal, 
where the English entered the city with their captives in mock pro- 
cession ; but subsequently, having been exchanged, he was brought 
to trial before a court-martial, found guilty of cowardice, and con- 
demned to be shot. In consideration, however, of his age and 
past services, the court recommended him to mercy ; and the Pre- 
sident humanely suffered him to live, though not without first strik- 
ing his name from the army roll. The charge of treason was 
abandoned as unfounded. There is one redeeming feature in the 
history of Hull, as connected with this transaction. He made no 
attempt to excuse himself before the public, by endeavoringto incul- 
pate his officers in his crime ; but stated frankly, and at once, that 
the whole blame should rest on himself. In summing up his cha- 
racter, we must regard him as a man of weak, though not despicable 
intellect ; possessed of mere animal courage, but with little moral 
firmness ; as a soldier, good enough for subordinate stations, but to- 
tally unequal to a superior command. 

Hull endeavored to exculpate himself before the public, by. 
printing, in 1814, a defence of his conduct. But he did not succeed. 
In 1824, he again appeared as an author, by publishing a memoir 
of the campaign of 1812, together with a sketch of his revolutionary 
sen ices. He die 1 in 1825, aged seventy-two. 




MASSACRE AT THE RIVER RAISIN. 



JAMES WINCHESTER 




AMES WINCHESTER, a Bri- 
gadier-General in the army of 
the United States, was born in 
Maryland, about the year 1756, 
He served during the war of In- 
i dependence in a subordinate capacity, and 
subsequently removed to Tennessee, where 
he rose to considerable influence. Possessed 
of an ample fortune, conciliating in manners, 
and ambitious as well as brave, he became 
the successful candidate, in 1812, for the office of Brigadier from his 
adopted state. His competitor was Andrew Jackson, then compara- 
tively an obscure man, out of Tennessee. It is said that the dec i- 
sion in favor of Winchester was made at the instigation of the mem- 
ber of Congress from his district, who feared that if Winchester was 
not put into the army, he might become a formidable opponent in the 
ensuing election. 




11 



81 



62 JAMES WINCHESTER. ^ 

The ignominous surrender of HuU^ had, at this period, filled the 
whole west with grief and indignation. The best and bravest of her 
sons, especially from Kentucky, pressed forward to offer themselves 
as volunteers, and within a month from the fall of Detroit, a gallant 
army had assembled, breathing vengeance for the late disgrace, and 
resolved not to return until the British conquests had been regained. 
Two competitors presented themselves for the command of this force. 
The first was Winchester, who claimed it as senior Brigadier ; the 
other was William Henry Harrison, who had been created a Major- 
General by the Governor of Kentucky, expressly to supersede Win- 
chester. Harrison was popular with the troops ; Winchester was not. 
In the end, the difficulty was adjusted by the Federal Government, 
which assigned to Harrison the chief command. Accordingly the 
army put itself in motion for a winter's campaign, the Comman- 
der-in-chief leading the right wing, and Winchester the left. 

Winchester, after relieving Fort Wayne, in September, moved 
down to the site of old Fort Defiance, where a new post was estab- 
lished, called Fort Winchester. Here, the General, by perseverance 
in conciliatory measures, succeeded in gaining the popularity of his 
troops. After building a sufficient number of large canoes, to trans- 
port their baggage down the Maumee to the Rapids, the volunteers 
left this camp in November, and advanced in the direction of the 
enemy. The way was long, difficult, and wild. The troops, as yet, 
were destitute of winter clothing, though snow was on the ground 
, and ice forming fast. Provisions soon failed, and for fourteen days 
the gallant Kentuckians subsisted on hickory roots, elm bark, and 
the beef of a few cattle killed in a state of starvation. At last a 
supply of warm clothing was received, and the troops moved for- 
ward with re-animated bosoms. It was at this period that an inci- 
dent occurred, characteristic of the generosity of the western people. 
The volunteers from Kentucky were the first to receive their winter 
clothing, and a regiment of regulars remained for a long time after- 
wards with no protection against the inclement weather, except 
linen fatigue dresses. The brave Kentuckians insisted that this 
regiment should be exempt from camp duty, and be allowed to 
remain by their fires : and they carried their humane point. 

It was on the 8th of January, when the order was issued to march 
to the Rapids. The snow lay twenty-seven inches deep on a 
dead level, and the men had to harness themselves to sleighs, in 
order to transport the baggage. Yet, intense as the cold was, the 
everlasting swamps of that region were not hard frozen. Through 
uicalculable difficulties the troops of Winchester pressed forward, 



JAMES WINCHESTER. 8^ 

and in about ten days reached the Rapids. In the meantime a mes- 
senger had arrived in camp from the village of Frenchtown, on the 
Raisin, a small stream, emptying its waters into the north-west angle 
of Lake Erie ; the inhabitants terrified at the approach of the enemy, 
solicited aid from Winchester. Accordingly, Colonels Lewis and 
Allen, were detached with six hundred men. This httle band, on 
the 18th of January, 1813, reached the river Raisin, and defeated a 
combined Englisli and Indian force, five hundred strong, led by 
Major Reynolds, of the Canadian militia. The efl^ect of this victory 
was electric. The inhabitants of Frenchtown were filled with exul- 
tation, and while two days before they had thought only of escaping 
the tomahawk of the savage, now, they considered nothing but in 
what way best to pursue the enemy. Nor was the excitement less 
at Winchester's camp. Every man there felt as if it had been the 
greatest misfortune of his life to be left behind when Lewis marched 
on Frenchtown, and all, with one voice, demanded to be led forward 
in order to share what there was of glory yet remaining. Little did 
they miagine the dark and bloody tragedy in store for them. 

On the 21st of January, Winchester put his troops in motion for 
the Raisin. The way lay partially through the woods, where the snow 
was two feet deep, partially along the borders of the lake, where 
the ice almost blocked up the passage ; these were obstructions suffi- 
cient to deter ordinary men, but the indomitable spirit of the Ken- 
tuckians was not to be disheartened. Winchester reached French- 
town on the evening of the 21st; he found Colonel Lewis, who was 
an officer of experience in Indian wars, posted in enclosed gar- 
dens, with an open field on his right. The reinforcement brought 
by Winchester, numbered about three hundred, and was commanded 
by Colonel Wells, who being of the regular army, outranked Lewis, 
who belonged to the volunteers. Wells demanded to be posted on 
the right, as the station due to his superiority in rank ; and to this 
claim W^inchester yielded, placing Wells, in consequence, in the open 
field. Had the advice of Lewis been taken, who recommended that 
Wells should be stationed in some gardens on his left, the result 
of the day might have been different. 

Meanwhile, Proctor having heard at Maiden of the defeat of Rey- 
nolds, was hastening forward with all his disposable force. On the 
morning of the 22d, just after dawn, he prepared for the assault. 
Covering his right with artillery, and his flanks with Indian marks- 
men, he advanced at first gallantly, but when he had approached 
within musket shot of the pickets, was met by so galling and inces- 
sant a fire, that this part of his army fell into confusion. On the left 



®4 JAMES WINCHESTER. 

however, he was more successful. Perceiving the exposed situation 
of the detachment under Wells, Proctor hastened to concentrate ah 
his force against it. A furious conflict ensued on this part of the 
field. Sharp and rapid vollies of musketry followed in succession 
from either side, over which occasionally rose the whoop of the In- 
dians, or the cheers of the brave Kentuckians. But that little band, 
unprotected as it was, could not long hold out against overwhelming 
numbers. After the action had lasted about twenty minutes, Win- 
chester saw that his position was untenable, and ordered Wells to 
fall back and gain the enclosures of Lewis. But at the first symptom 
of this retreat, the enemy ri^doubled their exertions, and pressed so 
obstinately on the Americans, that the line soon got into disorder. 
A panic now seized the men, who had just defended themselves so 
bravely, and mistaking the command to fall back, for a direction to 
retreat, they rushed to the river, which they crossed on the ice, and 
began to fly through the woods, in tiie direction of the Rapids. 
Exhilarated by victory, tiie British gave pursuit, the chase being led 
by the savages, who tasted, in anticipation, the blood of the fugi- 
tives. In vain Winchester, riding among the men, endeavored to 
rally them ; in vain Colonels Lewis and Allen, hurrying from their 
enclosures, with a company of fifty men each, struggled to check the 
torrent of defeat. Nothing would avail. Allen feU bravely fighting 
in the desperate attempt ; while Winchester, with Lewis and other 
oflicers, were taken prisoners. And now the rout became a mas- 
sacre. On sped the panic-struck troops, on came the Indians, like 
tigers who had tasted blood. Some fell by merciful rifle-balls, some 
were reserved for the hatchet, some were scalped alive, and left to 
perish by degrees. Of the whole of that chivalrous band which had 
left the Raisin with Winchester two days before, all were slaugh- 
tered, except forty who were taken prisoners, and twenty-eight who 
were miraculously saved. To this melancholy catalogue must be 
added the two companies under Lewis and Allen, who had made 
the sortie we have spoken of in favor of their companions. 

We have already seen that Proctor had been repulsed from the 
enclosures in the earlier part of the day. In that abortive attack he 
had lost one-fourth of his men, and would probably have now been 
glad to retire, satisfied with his partial victory, if he had not heard 
that Winchester was among the prisoners. His fertile mind immedi- 
ately suggested a stratagem by which he might yet, perhaps, capture 
the whole American force. Sending for Winchester, he enlarged on 
his large number, on the ruthlessness of his savages, and on the 
impossibility of the remaining portion of Winchester's command being 



JAMES WINCHESTER. 85 

able to make good their defence, " I can set fire to every house in 
the village/' he said, " and this my duty will compel me to do. 
Think of the innocent women and children who will be massacred 
by the Indians in consequence. You alone can avert this terrible 
calamity. Order your subordinate to surrender, and these miseries 
will be spared." 

Instead of replying indignantly to this brutal threat, Winchester 
suffered himself to be deceived by Proctor's sophistry, or by his own 
humanity, and sent word to the garrison that it was his advice they 
should surrender. The message, however, was basely perverted, 
for when Proctor's aid-de-camp was introduced to Major Madison, 
on whom the command had now devolved by the capture of Colonel 
Lewis, the latter was informed that " he and his followers had been 
surrendered prisoners of war, by General Winchester, to the arms 
of his Brittannic Majesty." But Madison, refusing to acknowledge 
the right of a captured General to make a capitulation for his troops, 
declared his determination to perish where he stood, with his gallant 
Kentuckians, unless more favorable terms should be granted. '' We 
prefer selling our lives as dear as possible," he said, " rather than 
be massacred in cold blood." At last a solemn stipulation was en- 
tered into by Proctor, that all private property should be respected ; 
that sleds should be sent, next morning, to remove the sick and 
wounded to Ahmetsburg, opposite Maiden ; that, meantime, a guard 
should be left to protect them from the savages ; and that the side 
arms of the officers should be restored to them at Maiden. 

On these conditions. Major Madison surrendered, though reluc- 
tantly. He would still have rejected all proposals for a capitulation, 
and held out to the last extremity, but for a scarcity of ammunition. 
That night the prisoners, about six hundred in number, were marched 
to Ahmetsburg, where they arrived on the evening of the 23rd. 
Here they were penned up in a muddy and confined wood-yard, 
exposed to a pelting rain, without sheds, tents, or blankets, and with 
scarcely sufficient fire to keep them from freezing. The men, on 
first hearing of their surrender, had broken their muskets across the 
pickets in rage ; and now they spent the night in muttering execra 
tions on their captors for this inhuman treatment. But their fate 
was merciful compared to that of the sick and wounded who had 
been left behind. These, by the terms of the capitulation, were to 
have been conveyed to Ahmetsburg in sleds, on the morning of 
tlie 23rd. But instead of the sleighs came two hundred savages, 
fainted in the most hideous manner, who, rushing upon the houses 
where the wounded lay, first plundered them of every valuable, and 

VIII 



86 JAMES WINCHESTER. 

then surrounding the habitations, set them on fire. As the flames 
roared and crackled to the sky, the savages danced around with 
yells of fiendish delight. Some of the victims, staggering from theii 
beds, endeavored to fly, but their merciless enemies drove them back 
with exulting whoops. When the fire smouldered into ashes, the 
bones of sixty-four brave men lay charred among the embers. 

Nothing can excuse Proctor's agency in this affair. He broke his 
plighted word in not detailing a sufficient guard to protect the 
wounded. Moreover, one of his own officers, a half-breed named 
Elliot, on being told that most of the American Surgeons had been 
killed, and that there were not sufficient to attend to the wounded, 
answered inhumanly, and with prophetic meaning, "the Indians 
will be found excellent Doctors." The rage and despair of the pri- 
soners at Ahmetsburg, all of whom had left friends, and some 
brothers behind, when they heard of this massacre, exceeded all 
bounds. In this disastrous battle, and in the bloody scene that fol- 
lowed, so many of the besi sons of Kentucky were sacrificed, that it i 
was said the whole commonwealth was plunged into mourning. 
The sacrilegious neglect of the American dead was another part of 
the conduct of Proctor, as disgraceful, though not, perhaps, as crimi- 
nal as his perfidy to his prisoners. The corpses were formally de- 
nied the rights of sepulture, and left a prey to the hogs and dogs of 
the village. Some time afterwards friendly hands were found to lay 
them piously in the ground ; but when the American army passed 
that way, in the ensuing summer, the relics were again seen ex- 
posed. They were buried once more, and thenceforth slept in peace. 
For his success in defeating Winchester, Proctor was made a Briga- 
dier-General ; but not a word of disapproval was uttered by his 
government in reference to the massacre. 

The history of Winchester, after this unfortunate defeat, ceases to 
be of interest. He survived several years, respected in private life 
for his mild and generous heart ; but suffering, in his public capacity, 
under the odium of this disgraceful and fatal repulse. His career is a 
warning to popular governments, that a man without real capacity 
for command, should never, whatever his influence or fortune, be 
entrusted with the lives of his fellow men. 




ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE 




EBULON MONTGOM- 
ERY PIKE, a Brigadier 
General in the United States 
army, was born at South 
Trenton, in New Jersey, on 
of January, 1779. He was 
an officer of industry, ability and pro- 
mise, though he perished at too early 
an age to fulfil all the high expectations 
that had been formed of him. He was 
W^& a strict disciplinarian, and adroit in the 
management of men. His courage was bold and dashing. Fond of 
his profession, ambitious of disti iction, and with many qualities lo 
ensure siiccess, it was the melancholy burden of his thoughts, as he 
lay on his untimely death-bed, that he perished too soon for glory ' 

87 



88 ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE. 

Pike was destined for the army from his earliest years, his fathei 
being a Major in the regular service. He served, when quite a 
youth, as a cadet in his parent's corps, and on the 3rd of March, 
1799, received his first commission, that of an Ensign, in the second 
regiment of infantry. In little more than a year he was promoted 
to the rank of First-Lieutenant. His assiduity soon attracted the 
notice of his superiors, and in 1805, he was appointed, by General 
Wilkinson, to command an expedition to explore the head waters of 
the Mississippi. The aetachment, consisting of a Serjeant, a Corpo- 
ral, and seventeen privates, beside Pike himself, left St. Louis on 
the 9th of August, 1805, and was absent eight months and twenty- 
two days. During this period it visited numerous tribes of Indians 
on the upper Missouri, and was the first to carry the flag of the Uni- 
ted States into those remote regions. Pike found the savages gene- 
rally suspicious of this republic, though acknowledging the prowess 
of its citizens in war ; and it soon became evident to him that for 
these opinions they were indebted to the intrigues of the English 
traders in that direction. During the war of 1812, the sentiments, 
thus sown, bore bitter fruits, some of these very savages marching 
fifteen hundred miles to join in the contest against us. 

The admirable manner in which Pike executed his task in this 
expedition, induced Wilkinson to despatch him on an exploration to 
the head waters of the Arkansas and Red Rivers. The primary ob- 
ject of the enterprise, as appears from his instructions, was to restore 
certain Osage captives, recently rescued from the Potawatamies, to 
their homes on the Grand Osage : the second was to effect a perma- 
nent peace between the Kansas and Osage nations ; and the third 
was to establish a good understanding with the Yanctons, Tetans, 
or Camanches. If there were other, and more secret purposes of 
the expedition, they have never come to light. Pike started from 
St, Louis on the 15th of July, 1806. His party consisted of a Second- 
Lieutenant, a Sergeant, two Corporals, sixteen privates, and an in- 
terpreter. A professional gentlemen, Dr. Robinson, accompanied 
the party as a volunteer. The Indians carried out by the expedi- 
tion, were fifty-one Osagcs and Pawnees. 

The enterprise proved disastrous. Near the head of the Arkansas 
River, Pike lost his way, and wandered about for a month without 
gaining a day's journey on his original encampment. The winter set 
in severely ; the snow lay thick on the ground ; provisions failed ; 
and many of the men became frost-bitten, and had to be left on the 
road. At last Pike reached what he supposed to be the Red River, 
and began to erect a fortification there, his intention being to leave 



ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE. 8& 

four or five men in this place, when completed, and, with the 
remainder, to return for those of his party he had been compelled to 
abandon. In a few days, however, he was visited by a party of 
Spanish dragoons, the commander of which, first informing him that 
he was within the boundaries of New Mexico, and on the Rio del 
Norte instead of the Red River, ended by civilly requesting his com- 
pany at Santa Fe, which was but two days march distant. Under 
the circumstances there was no resource but to accede to a request, 
which, if refused, would evidently be enforced as a command. Ac- 
cordingly Pike accompanied the officer to Santa Fe, first stipulating 
that a party should remain at the fort, in order to await the men for 
whom he had sent back. On reaching Santa Fe, the cause of his 
arrest was explained, in the notoriety which Burr's exploded designs 
on Mexico had attained. The Spanish Governor had, at first, sup- 
posed Pike to be one of Burr's emissaries. On discovering his mis- 
take, however, he allowed Pike to return to the United States, though 
not until he had taken away his papers. Pike's homeward journey 
was pursued through what is now Texas. In the ensuing year, he 
published the results of his observations, in a work entitled, " Geo- 
graphical, Statistical, and General Observations on the Interior 
Provinces of New Spain ;" and shortly after, made a report to the 
government of his expedition up the Mississippi. The most flatter- 
ing testimonials, from both the Secretary of War and the President, 
were received by him for his conduct in these explorations. He 
appears indeed to have possessed every required qualification except 
being a man of science. 

After his return from Mexico, Pike was raised to the rank of Cap- 
tain ; in 1809, to that of Major ; and in 1810, to that of Lieutenant- 
Colonel. When the War of 1812 broke out, he was advanced to 
the post of Colonel. In the ensuing year, when General Dearborn 
planned his attack on York, the command of the expedition was 
given to Pike, who had meantime been nominated for Brigadier. It 
was on the 27th of April, 1813, that the tragical assault was made. 
The defenders numbered about eight hundred, half regulars, and 
half militia and Indians, commanded by General Sheaffe. An ad 
verse wind prevented the landing of the Americans where they had 
intended, and accordingly it became necessary to pass some thick 
woods before reaching the works. These woods were occupied by 
a strong party of the enemy, who poured in a destructive fire a 3 the 
troops approached the shore. The first who landed were the rifle- 
men under Major Forsythe. One of their number, an especial 
favorite, falling almost as soon as he sprang on the beach, the whole 
VIII* 12 



90 



ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE. 



corps became inflamed with a thirst for revenge, which lent the most 
terrible effect to their fire. Immediately taking covert behind the 
trees, they picked off the troops of the British one by one, Forsythe, 
it is said, passing up and down the Hne behind his men, and point- 
ing out those who presented the surest mark. The slaughter was 
terrible. Yet the enemy resolutely held his ground, until Pike, with 
the main body, had effected a landing. 

Quickly forming his men, Pike dashed on in pursuit. After 
threading the wood we have spoken of, he came to an open ground, 
at the further end of which appeared the redoubts of the enemy. 
One of these soon yielded to the impetuous attack of the Americans. 
But the other holding out, it was resolved to halt the column until 
a battery could be established of some light artillery, beneath the 
cover of the conquered redoubt. The troops being fatigued, the 
leading regiments were allowed to seat themselves on the ground, 
Pike himself, surrounded by his staff, imitating their example. In 
this position they were awaiting the effect of the artillery, when sud- 




DEATH OF G?:NERAL TIKE. 



denly an explosion occurred, shaking earth and sky. Instantly 
every man looked around in horror. The explosion was seen to 
proceed from a magazine of the enemy, a huge stone building, 



ZEBITLON MONTGOMERY PIKE. 91 

which had caught fire by some untoward accident. The Americans 
were all within a compass of a few hundred yards, right in the track 
of this terrible volcano. An instant or two elapsed between the 
stunning report and the fall of the destructive missiles. The sight 
is described as having been awful. At first a jet of flame was seen 
shooting to the sky, followed by thick puffs of white smoke, from 
the midst of which huge fragments of the wall went spinning aloft, 
and then fell, thick and fast, over the field around. The gigantic 
masses, as they poised a moment before descending, seemed like 
some black cloud obscuring the heavens : then, with a rushing sound, 
they came to the earth, bruising, maiming and destroying wherever 
they touched. In some places the fragments fell with such force as 
to bury themselves several feet in the ground. Over three hundred 
individuals, by that fearful descent, were hurried into eternity, or 
else wounded or maimed for life. 

Pike was one of the sufferers. Seeing the huge masses in the air, 
and knowing that escape was impossible, he did not attempt to rise, 
but stooped his body forward instinctively. A piece of the wall 
struck him on the back as he bent in this position, and gave him a 
mortal injury. Just as he was lifted from the ground, he heard a 
shout, and inquiring what it was for, was told the enemy's flag 
was coming down. He smiled proudly on hearing this. He lived 
but a few hours, just long enough to be taken on board the fleet. 
Here he desired the captured banner might be placed under his 
head. He died thinking of his wife and children, and regretting that 
his career was cut so short. His wife was a woman who shared all 
his ambitious longings, and would have incited him to glory, if he 
had been less athirst for it himself. She heard of her loss with the 
fortitude of a Roman matron, and lived thereafter to cherish his 
memory, as a sacred deposit. 

The death of Pike, and the explosion of the magazine, threw the 
Americans into momentary confusion, which General Sheaffe availed 
himself of to abandon his fortifications, leaving the authorities of 
York to make the best terms of surrender they could. Offers of 
capitulation were immediately made, but while they were being 
entertained, the enemy set fire to a public vessel on the stocks, and 
to a magazine of military and naval stores. The loss of the British 
in this affair was five hundred, in killed, wounded and prisoners ; 
that of the Americans, in killed and wounded, three hundred and 
twenty, and most of these were in consequence of this explosion. 

Pike was but thirty-four at the period of his death. His loss was 



9^ 



ZEB0LON MONTGOMERY FIKE. 



deeply regretted by the nation, which had formed a high estimate 
of his ability. In the army, but especially in his own regiment, the 
^rief for his premature fate was long and heart-felt. 





HENRY DEARBORN 



K 



ENRY DE ARBO'RN, a Major-General 
in the army of the United States, was 
another example of a revolutionary of- 
ficer who failed to maintain his old re- 
putation. But as there are grades in 
unfitness as in other things, Dearborn 
has the merit of being less incapable 
than either Wilkinson or Hull. His 
fault was that of all the earlier Gene- 
rals of the war of 1812. Age had 
damped his ardor, and weakened his energy: instead of being the first 
to lead, he was content to delegate this task to others. Forty years had 

93 




94 HENRY DEARBORN. 

completely changed his character. In 1776 he had been distinguished 
for promptitude and fire ; in 1812 he was remarkable only for inac- 
tivity. 

Dearborn was a native of New Hampshire, where he was born in 
the year 1751. He received as good an education as the colonies 
could then afford, and at the age of manhood, settled as a practi- 
tioner of medicine at Portsmouth, in his native state. Among one 
of the most ardent supporters of the colonial rights, he did not hesi- 
tate, when the trial of arms came, 1^ devote his sword and life to his 
country ; and on hearing of the battle of Lexington, marched, with 
sixty volunteers, to Cambridge, a distance of sixty miles, within 
twenty-four hours. He was present at the battle of Bunker Hill, 
where he held a Captain's commission, in Stark's regiment. He sub- 
sequently accompanied Arnold to Canada, where he was captured, 
and at first closely confined ; but was afterwards liberated on parole, 
and, in March, 1777, exchanged. He was now attached to the 
army of Gates, with the rank of Major, and shared, with his compa- 
nions, the glories of Saratoga. In the campaign of 1778, he distin- 
guished himself at the battle of Monmouth, in a manner to win the 
personal commendation of Washington. In 1779, he formed one of 
the expedition, under Sullivan, against the Six Nations. His milita- 
ry career in the War of Independence, closed at the siege of York- 
town. 

After the conclusion of peace. Dearborn returned to private life. 
On the elevation of Washington to the Presidency, he was appointed 
marshal of the District of Maine. Subsequently he was twice elected 
to Congress from Maine. In 1801, on the formation of the Jefi'erson 
administration, he was appointed Secretary of War, an office he held 
until 1809. He was rewarded, on his retirement, with the collector- 
ship of the port of Boston, at that time the most lucrative post, of 
its character, in the country. When the war with Great Britain was 
declared, he was made a Major-General, partly on account of his in- 
fluence, and partly for his reputation earned during the revolutionary 
struggle. His first operation in the autumn of 1812, signally failed. 
But, as the army was as yet only partially prepared for action, bet- 
ter auspices were drawn for the future. 

The plan of campaign for 1813, on the northern frontier, was 
sketched by General Armstrong, the Secretary of War. He pro- 
posed the reduction of Kingston and York, on Lake Ontario, and of 
Fort George, on the Niagara, in the order named. It was the opin- 
ion of Armstrong that the most important of the posts, Kingston, 
ought first to be attacked, since its fall would paralyze the operations 



HENRY DEARBORN. » 

)f the British throughout Canada ; and in arriving at this decision it 
must be confessed, the Secretary of war evinced more than his usual 
judgment. The force of Dearborn was thirteen thousand men, and 
that of the enemy but three thousand, so that if numbers could se- 
cure victory, the Americans had nothing to fear. Besides, Chauncey 
was on the lake, with a fleet, ready to co-operate with Dearborn. 
On a consideration, however, of the Secretary's plan. Dearborn and 
Chauncey decided to assail the weakest point of the enemy first, 
thus displaying another instance of that exaggerated dread of the 
English armies, and a mistrust in our own, which led to most of the 
disasters during the first two years of the war. Accordingly the ex- 
pedition against York was undertaken. 

This post fell into the hands of the Americans after a feeble at- 
tempt at resistance. It was here that the brave Pike lost his life by 
the explosion of a magazine ; and in consequence of this calamity a 
portion of the enemy escaped, for Dearborn not being present on the 
field, and Colonel Peirce, who succeeded Pike, having received no 
orders, a pursuit was not undertaken. The next movement v/as 
against Fort George, which was abandoned by its garrison on the 
approach of Dearborn. But here also the inactivity, or want of 
foresight of the American General, permitted the escape of the ene- 
my. If, instead of concentrating his whole force on the water-side 
of the British defences, he had sent a sufficient detachment across the 
Niagara, below Queenstown, he could have cut off all escape. Even 
when, on the flight of the garrisoa. Colonel Winfield Scott, on his 
own responsibility, gave pursuit. Dearborn recalled him, and thus 
allowed the enemy to secure a safe retreat. Afterwards, by taking 
the wrong road, he losi two days in following the foe to Burlington 
heights ; and finally closed this series of blunders by detaching an 
insufficient force, which was attacked at Stony Brook, in the night 
of the 5th of June, and completely defeated. These failures the pro- 
phetic eye of Pike had foreseen before his death. " Our country is 
again doomed to defeat," he is reported to have said, " if the opera- 
tions now meditated by the General are attempted to be accom- 
plished." 

Dearborn's want of success, during the twelve months he had been 
in command, had now led to a very general demand on the part of 
the public, that he should be recalled. Not only had he signally 
failed in his attempt on Canada in the autumn of 1812, but after- 
wards, when full time had been allowed to discipline his troops, and 
when the government had given him the most unlimited discretion- 
ary powers, his campaign had presented only a series of disasters. 



96 HENRY DEARBORir. 

With an army never less than thirty-five hundred men, he had been 
foiled by an enemy rarely numbering a thousand. After the defeat 
of Chandler and Winder at Stony Brook, Dearborn had withdrawn 
his forces to Fort George ; and the enemy, though much inferior in 
numbers, emboldened by these signs of fear, had advanced in the 
direction of that post, in order, as the British General wrote in his 
despatches, '' to circumscribe the range of the American troops, 
and compel them to live on their own resources.'^ Aroused by 
4hese encroachments. Dearborn determined to send out a detach- 
ment to attack the enemy. A last opportunity to redeem him- 
self was here presented ; but he wanted either the sagacity or 
energy to avail himself of it. If he had despatched Scott and Miller, 
both known to be active and able officers, with fifteen hundred men 
each, he might have crushed the British ; but instead of this he chose 
Colonel Boerstler, an officer proved by no particular service, with 
but five hundred and forty men, to operate, beyond sustaining dis- 
tance, against a rapid, practised and vehement foe. The conse- 
quences were such as might have been foreseen. Boerstler was 
surrounded and compelled to surrender. 

When intelligence of this last disaster reached the city of Washing- 
ton, Congress was in session,and an informal committee was immedi- 
ately appointed, to wait on the President and solicit the recall of Dear- 
born. Madison comphed, and the order was despatched that day. In 
consequence of this removal, the operations of the northern army were 
suspended, for General Boyd, the second in command, was ordered 
to do nothing until the arrival of Wilkinson, Dearborn's successor. 
In justice to the retiring General it must be stated that he had been 
ill for more than a month before his removal ; that his army was 
becoming rapidly thinned by sickness ; and that he had been left 
almost entirely without regimental officers. Moreover, about this 
period, the command of the lake was temporarily lost. But Dear- 
born, nevertheless, appears to have been wanting in the requisites of 
a successful General ; for he displayed a torpor and indecision, which; 
whether resulting from age or natural incapacity, produced the most 
unfortunate results. 

After his recall. Dearborn was ordered to assume command of the 
mihtary district of New York city. His subsequent life presents few 
incidents worthy of record here. In 1822, during the administration 
of Monroe, he was appointed Minister Plenipotentiary to Portugal ; 
but he did not long hold this honorable post, being recalled, two 
years later, at his own request. He survived only a short period, 
dying in 1829, at the age of seventy-eight 




JAMES WILKINSON. 




AMES WILKINSON, a 

Major-General in the army of the 

United States, had distinguished 

himself in the revolutionary war, but 

failed in the present contest to maintain 

, his former reputation. He was, in fact, 

disqualified for a supreme command, 

though capable of discharging with 

credit the duties of a subordinate. The 

r disgraceful termination of the attempt on 

Canada, in the autumn of 1813, is to be 

Attributed chiefly to him. At the head of the most imposing force 

which had yet been concentrated on the northern frontier, he had 

IX ' 13 97 



98 JAMES WILKINSON. 

advanced to a convenient distance of Montreal, when suddenly he 
abandoned his design, and retired to French Mills, to the chagrin of 
all his abler officers. His excuse for this conduct, was the want of 
concert on the part of General Hampton. But this is an insufficient 
justification. The battle of WilUamsburg, in which the enemy had 
met a check, left the road to Montreal comparatively open, and it needed 
only a bold and vigorous push to carry that important place. But 
there was nothing heroic about Wilkinson. He was a gentleman of 
polished address, and a methodical officer, but not a great General. 
He was fitted to follow rather than lead. His pompous manner, his 
affectation of military knowledge, and his jealous spirit, all marked 
the second-rate man, attempting to conceal his deficiencies by noise 
and bluster. 

Wilkinson was born in Maryland, in the year 1757. He was 
educated for a physician, and began his medical career in 1775, but 
the War of Independence breaking out in that year, he yielded to a 
partiality he had always experienced for the military life, and repaired 
to the camp at Cambridge. In March, 1776, he was rewarded with 
a Captain's commission. He served in Canada under Arnold, and 
subsequently in New Jersey, under Washington. At first, his 
advance was rapid. In January, 1777, he was elevated to the rank 
of Lieutenant-Colonel. When General Gates was appointed to the 
northern army, he offered Wilkinson the post of Aid-de-camp, a 
flattering tender, which the young soldier accepted, resigning for that 
purpose his commission in the line. Appointed Adjutant-General 
by his patron, he served with industry and ability, until the surren- 
der of Burgoyne, when he was despatched by Gates to inform Con- 
gress of the capitulation. W^ilkinson stopped so long at Reading, on 
his way to Philadelphia, that the felicitous news reached the capi- 
tol before him ; but notwithstanding his laggard pace. Congress was 
so delighted with the intelligence, that he was rewarded with the rank 
of Brigadier. A keen rebuke, however, was administered by Roger 
Sherman, who, in seconding the motion, proposed to amend it, by 
voting the messenger a whip and a pair of spurs. When Gates 
became President of the Board of War, Wilkinson was appointed 
his Secretary. Having been implicated in the cabal against Wash- 
ington by the conduct of Gates, a rupture occurred between the 
patron and pupil, and Wilkinson, in consequence, resigned his 
post as Secretary, as also his brevet of Brigadier. He was, however, 
subsequently appointed Clothier-General of the army. 

At the close of the war, Wilkinson settled in Kentucky, where he 
embarked in trade; but soon becoming disgusted with commerce, he 



JAMES WILKINSON. 99 

returned to the army, and was employed on the frontier. When the 
purchase of Louisiana was eflectedj under Jefferson's administration. 
Wilkinson was joint commissioner with Governor Clairborne, to 
receive that territory from the French authorities. He was now in 
command of the southern department. A few years later, Burr 
conceived the design of invading Mexico, and Wilkinson, still at the 
head of the southern department, appears to have lent, at first, a 
favorable ear to the dazzling scheme. Subsequently, however, 
induced either by patriotism or interest, he refused to give his coun- 
tenance to the enterprise, and became, indeed, one of the most active 
and even virulent witnesses against the prisoner. In this conduct, 
there is such an absence of magnanimity, as leaves no very favora- 
ble impression on the mind of the historian. Nothing, in fact, can 
vindicate Wilkinson from the imputation of having sought his own 
personal advancement by the ruin of his former friend. He was well 
acquainted with the real intentions of Burr, and had been a party 
to them ; but when the popular cry was raised, he became one of 
the first, not only to desert his late associate, but to seek his destruc- 
tion. The most partial eulogists of Wilkinson's behaviour in this 
affair, are forced to admit, that either he shared in Burr's ambitious 
plans, or else played the spy on him from the beginning. 

Wilkinson continued in command of the southern department 
until 1811. In 1813, he was ordered to the northern frontier, to 
assume the chief command of the army there, made vacant by the 
recall of General Dearborn. The failure of the preceding campaign 
had led to the resignation of the Hon. Wm. Eustis, Secretary of War, 
and the advancement of General Armstrong to that place. The new 
officer had no sooner assumed his post, than he planned a bold and 
comprehensive campaign against Canada, the reduction of Kingston, 
the enemy's chief depot, being laid down as the first step to be 
taken, and preliminary to the conquest of Montreal and Quebec. 
The campaign was to have been opened on Lake Ontario, by the 
first of April, or as soon as that lake was free from ice ; and on the 
St. Lawrence by the 15th of May, or earlier if the navigation would 
permit. Had this plan been vigorously carried out, there is little 
doubt but that the whole of Canada would have fallen. But there 
seems to have been a lamentable imbecility, not only in those 
entrusted with its execution, but in the Secretary of War himself, 
who, later in the season, repaired to the scene of action in person. 
In the early part of the spring. General Dearborn was in command 
of the northern department, but instead of opening the campaign by 
an attack on Kingston, he moved against York, where victory 



100 



JAMES WILKINSON. 



aftorded no reward commensurate with the trouble. Had he assailed 
Kingston at once, it is now apparent that he would have succeeded, 
and in so doing, struck a deadly blow to the British in Canada. His 
mistake at the beginning of the campaign, led to the inactivity of his 
army during the whole summer, for in July he was recalled, and 
by direction of the Secretary of War, every thing was left to await 
the arrival of Wilkinson, his successor. Meantime, however, Arm 
strong renewed the original plan of the campaign, which, on Wilkin 
son's arrival, was communicated to that General. The seizure of 
Kingston, and the destruction of the British fleet there, the Secretary 
said would give Wilkinson command of Lake Ontario, and strike at 
the vital parts of the enemy. In conjunction with this enterprise, 
the Secretary proposed a movement from Lake Champlain on the 
St. Lawrence, and the troops destined for this service, about four 
thousand men, were entrusted to General Hampton. 
Wilkinson arrived at Albany in the early part of August, 1813, 




KINGSTON-. 



and despatched, on the 16th of that month, his first orders to Hamp 
ton. The latter General, who had imagined his command an inde- 
pendent one, was jealous of this new superior, and immediately 



JAMfcS WILKINSON. lOl 

tendered his resignation, but the Secretary succeeded in persuading 
him to retain his post until the close of the campaign, though 
not in wholly eradicating his disgust. The consequence was that the 
operations, which ought to have opened in the spring, and which 
were now about to begin at last in the autumn, commenced with a 
feud between the General-iii-chief and his second in command, an 
event generally ominous of failure. However, the campaign was 
at once begun. Wilkinson arriving at Sackett's Harbor, hastened 
to call a council of war. At this assembly it was resolved to ren- 
dezvous the troops at that post, and after a bold feint on Kingston, 
to slip down the St. Lawrence, and in conjunction with General 
Hampton, capture Montreal. The army at Wilkinson's disposal, 
was already seven thousand four hundred men, which, in a month, 
could be raised to nine thousand. This, it was believed, would outnum- 
ber the disposable force of the enemy, and ensure certain success to the 
contemplated campaign. In order that nothing might be left undone to 
obtain victory, the Secretary of War transferred his department from 
Washington to Sackett's Harbor, beUeving that his presence at the scene 
of operations would add to the celerity of the army, and compose the 
jealousies of Wilkinson and Hampton. But in this expectation, as 
might have been foreseen, he signally failed. His appearance 
rendered Wilkinson as jealous of the Secretary, as Hampton had 
before been jealous of Wilkinson. Where there should have been 
but one controUing head, there were now three. A general distrust 
between the Generals was the consequence. As a late writer has 
powerfully said, " that deplorable campaign was a monster with 
three heads, biting and barking at each other, with a madness which 
destroyed them all, and disgraced the country. Discord was a leprosy 
in the very marrow of the enterprise, worse than all its other cala- 
mities. Armstrong was on good terms both with Wilkinson and Hamp- 
ton till it failed, but thenceforth the enmity became as bitter 
between him and both of them, as between the two themselves.'^ 

On the 21st of October, Wilkinson at last set his army in motion: 
Commodore Chauncey, having, as a preparatory measure chased the 
English fleet into harbor, and obtained command of the lake. The 
troops were embarked at Grenadier Island, near Sackett's Harbor, 
in three hundred boats, under convoy of a part of Chauncey 's squad- 
ron, but more than a fortnight elapsed before they cleared the lake, 
and reached the St. Lawrence. This delay is attributable to the 
advanced season. Now was seen the error of putting off the cam- 
paign to this late period of the year. Autumn proved particularly 
inclement ; there was almost constant rain, with occasional snow 

IX 



102 JAMES WILKINSON. 

Storms ; while the gales that swept that inland sea, lashed it into short, 
wild waves, that were more dangerous even than those of the 
ocean. One third of the boats were wrecked in this perilous navi- 
gation. The troops, crowded into the remainder, and unprovided 
with proper clothing, were continually drenched to the skin. To add to 
all provisions were scanty and unwholesome. In consequence, large 
numbers, both of officers and men, fell sick, and the spirits of the rest 
became materially impaired. Nor did the enemy omit any oppor- 
tunity to harass and distress the expedition, but frequently assailed 
it from their batteries, which were posted at various points along 
the shore. At last, on the 6th of November, .the Americans arrived 
opposite Prescott. The main body of the troops was now debarked, 
only a small portion being left with General Brown, to whom was 
entrusted the charge of carrying the fleet of boats past the English 
fortification. This task, that daring and skilful General effected 
in the night, without loss, though in the midst of a furious cannon- 
ade. The army and its flotilla having once more united, the expe- 
dition advanced on its way. At Ogdensburg, Wilkinson heard from 
Hampton, who expressed his conviction that the. campaign was at 
an end, and renewed his desire to resign. Wilkinson, in reply, 
announced his present position, declared his intention of marching 
on Montreal, and demanded Hampton's co-operation to carry out 
the objects of the campaign. The progress of the main army down 
the St. Lawrence was now continued. 

During the whole voyage Wilkinson had been ill, and for most of 
the time confined to his bed. Secluded in his boat from the view of 
the men, his own spirits appear to have sunk as fast as theirs, if the 
diary which he kept of the proceedings of the army, is any criterion 
of his feelings. As early as the 24th of October, he writes in the 
most despondent strain. With each succeeding day, this deplorable 
want of confidence seems to have increased. Every new storm, every 
additional obstruction added to the depression of the General, when they 
should have been only increased inducements to renewed enterprise 
and perseverance. If Greene, when at the head of the southern 
army in the Revolution, had given way to the thousand difficulties 
that surrounded him, the Carolinas never would have been liberated ; 
but, though suffering for most of the time under disease, and though 
pursued by infinitely greater obstructions than Wilkinson, he 
manfully bore up against all, and came out victorious. The test of 
military genius is to conquer in spite of fate. Second-rate men 
always fail in difficult emergencies, but the first order of minds 
succeed by bending destiny to their will. Napoleon was never 



JAMES WILKINSON. 103 

greater than in his Italian campaign, where, nevertheless, he was 
always inferior in force to the Austrians. Washington, when retreat- 
ing across the Jerseys with three thousand men, while the British 
with twenty thousand, thundered in pursuit, is one of the noblest 
spectacles in military history, because he was conqueror in defiance 
of odds. Neither the sickness of Wilkinson, nor the inclemency of 
the weather can be admitted as a justification of his failure. The 
fact was, he held a post above his ability. He was unfitted to com- 
mand. 

We have said that the British had omitted no occasion to annoy 
the Americans. Undismayed by the superior numbers of the inva- 
ders, they had attacked, whenever an opportunity offered, with a 
bravery and resolution which extorts admiration. Indeed, the effect 
of the preceding campaign had not worn off from the public mind 
in either country. The British, were, in consequence, always con- 
fident of victory ; the Americans, distrustful of their own powers 
and expecting defeat. On the 9th of November, a fleet of the 
enemy's gun boats, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Morrison, 
cut off a large quantity of provisions and stores, with two pieces of 
ordnance, from the rear of the Americans. Flushed with this success, 
Morrison on the following day pressed so close upon the invaders, that 
the "Brigade under Boyd, which was nearest to him, turned and 
gave him battle. Had Wilkinson been a General of spirit, he would 
have concentrated all his forces, and crushed his assailant. But 
reduced by illness to spend the day on his pillow, he was so 
thoroughly destitute of the necessary energy, that, on hearing the 
distant cannonade, he merely enquired how the day was going, and 
was contented when he heard his troops had not been utterly 
defeated. The battle was thus left wholly to General Boyd, who 
had but sixteen hundred men, while his adversary commanded 
a force at least equal, if not superior. The conflict raged for two 
hours, and was obstinately contested. Both the British and Ameri- 
can Generals exhibited the greatest skill and intrepidity, so much so, 
indeed, that the English commander paid his adversary the compli- 
ment of declaring that the battle was in these respects, the hand- 
somest affair of the war. In the end, the British were dnven from 
their positions, with a loss to the Americans of one hundred killed, 
and two hundred and thirty-six wounded, the enemy losing more 
by our account, less by their own. The desperate character of the 
fight is shown by the loss, which, in Boyd's brigade, amounted to 
one-fourth of the whole number. Had this detachment of the 
1 Americans been sustained by the whole disposable force of our 



104 JAMES WILKINSON. 

army, there can be no doubt but that a glorious and decisive victory 
would have been won. This battle has been known as that ot 
Williamsburg. 

Wilkinson had now achieved three-fourths of his journey. His 
forces were greatly superior to those of the enemy; the road to 
Montrea. was comparatively open ; and the season was approach- 
ing which, notwithstanding the cold, is more favorable to" m.iUtary 
operations in Canada than either the autumn or spring. His 
advance was commanded by General Brown, a bold and gallant 
officer, who felt confident of the success of the campaign. Serving 
under Brown was a young officer, since the conqueror of Mexico, 
Colonel Winfield Scott, who had just routed a party of the British, 
eight hundred strong, at Hoophole Creek, and who was equally con- 
fident of victory. Had Wilkinson listened to the advice of these 
more heroic spirits, he might yet have achieved successes that would 
have crowned his name with glory. But, instead of this, he took 
counsel of his own morbid fears. At every step he considered he 
was further from his base, and, expecting defeat, lamented the dis- 
tance that separated him from a secure place of refuge. While in 
this miserable condition of mind he received a letter from Hampton, 
on the 12th of November, refusing peremptorily to join the expedi- 
tion. This decided Wilkinson. He saw a chance to shift the 
responsibility on another, and relieve himself of his suspense. His 
brow, which had been so long clouded, cleared up ; eagerly snatching 
at this refusal of Hampton as an excuse, he resolved to retreat, and 
calling in the advance, set out, the very next day, for French Mills, 
on Salmon River. This resolution was heard with grief and dismay 
by the younger officers. Thus failed an expedition, undertaken at 
the head of the best appointed army which had yet been sent out by 
tJie United States. No palliation, or but little, can be offered for the 
conduct of Wilkinson. It was not criminal, perhaps, but it was not 
heroic. A man of more ability, a Jackson, a Taylor, or a Scott, 
would have entered Montreal in triumph. Wilkinson was tried by 
a court-martial, and acquitted, of course, since neither treachery, nor 
any other glaring error could be proved upon him. But the popu- 
lar verdict was against him, and in questions of this kind the robust 
common sense of the people is generally right. 

We cannot close the narrative of this disgraceful campaign with- 
out alluding to the loss of Fort George and of Fort Niagara. The 
former was situated on British soil, and had been the only conquest 
remaining to us, when its Commander, Colonel Scott, eager to share 
in the expected glories of Wilkinson's expedition, left it in charge of 



JAMES WILKINSON. 



105 



General M'Clure of the New York militia. During the period of 
his aosence, the British, twelve hundred strong, headed by General 
Druramond, advanced to the siege of the place. Alarmed at this 
imposing force, a council of war was called in the fort, and its aban- 
donment resolved upon, though the place was fully competent for a 




QUEENSTOWN. 



defence. The post was accordingly dismantled. But, not content 
with dilapidating the fort, the retiring Americans set fire to the 
neighboring village of Newark, alleging that otherwise it might 
afford a shelter to the enemy during the approaching winter. By 
this inhuman act, four hundred women and children, deprived of 
their homes, were thrust out into the open air to endure all the hor- 
rors of a Canadian winter. Nor did the savage, cruelty of the militia 
end here. Finding that the British sought shelter in the neighboring 
village of Queenstown, red hot shots were fired at that place, to 
deprive the enemy of a refuge there. For these acts of Vandalism, 
a terrible and speedy retribution was taken by the British. Crossing 
the river at the head of five hundred men, Colonel Murray, of the 

14 



106 JAMES WILKINSON. 

English army, surprised and carried Fort Niagara, putting sixty* 
three of its garrison to death with the hayonet, before he wou^.d grant 
quarter. This bold act was followed up by the burning of the 
villages of Lewistown and Manchester, and subsequently by the 
sacking and conflagration of Black Rock and Buff*alo. We do not 
pretend to defend either of these barbarities. The British, in the 
campaign of the preceding year, had acted so ruthlessly as to exas- 
perate the Americans ; and to this, in part, is the burning of New- 
ark and Queenstown to be attributed. But the Vandalism of one 
party should never excuse that of another. It ought to be the proud 
boast of Americans, that while they make war like heroes, they 
conduct themselves towards defenceless women and children, with 
the tenderest humanity. Such, indeed, had been their character up 
to this period. It is lamentable to consider that this fair fame was 
lost through the instrumentality of cowards, who, incompetent to 
defend their post, set an example of barbarity that was fearfully 
retaliated in the sack of Buffalo, and subsequently in that of the 
capital of the nation . 

Wilkinson, having arrived at French Mills, waited until his army 
was established in winter quarters, and then requested leave of 
absence, in order to recruit his health. He directed- Hampton to be 
brought to a court-martial, and, in the spring, that General resigned. 
Wilkinson afterwards requested a court-martial on himself This 
body met in 1815, and acquitted him of all blame. However, on 
the new organization of the army, after the peace, he was not 
retained on the establishment, an ominous hint as to the popular 
opinion of his conduct. He availed himself of the leisure thus aff"ord- 
ed him, to give to the world, in 1817, three large octavo volumes 
entitled "■ Memoirs of My Own Times.'' This work is not without 
value, but is marked by too much personal prejudice. 

Having become possessed of large estates in Mexico, Wilkinson 
removed to that country soon after leaving the army. He survived 
there until the 28th of December, 1825. His death occurred in the 
vicinity of the capital, and he lies buried in the parish of St. Miguel. 




JOHN ARMSTRONG. 





LTHOUGH Armstrong was not 
present in any battle during the 
war of 1812, yet, as Secretary 
of the War D-epartment, and the 
.projector of the campaign of 1813, he merits 
a place in this series. It can scarcely be 
said that he was a very able, or a very for- 
c^i tunate leader. None of his projects were 
crowned with success. Though he removed 
his department from Washington to the northern frontier, in order 
to be nearer the scene of operations, he gained nothing from the 
step but the envy of his Generals. Neither in arranging the plan of 

107 



108 JOHN ARMSTRONG. 

this campaign, nor in endeavoring to reconcile the jealousies of WL 
kinson and Hampton, did he exhibit any evidences of a superior in- 
tellect. In short, he was better at criticising others than at perform- 
ing great deeds himself. A caustic writer, a good hater, prejudiced, 
vindictive and vain, he presents the spectacle of a man, who, unable 
to rise to a first position himself, detracted from all others Mfho aspired 
to it. 

Yet it would be improper to speak of Armstrong in a tone of un- 
qualified censure. He experienced many things to exasperate him, 
and to leave upon his mind the stinging impression of injustice and 
undeserved insult. The failure of the campaign of 1813 was far 
from being entirely his fault. In fact the very errors which led to 
that failure, he had early warned the commanding Generals against ; 
and the removal of the department to the northern frontier was pro- 
jected in hopes to prevent, by his presence, unnecessary delays. 
Moreover, he was not properly seconded in any of his plans by the 
President. Madison and Armstrong had not agreed from the first ; 
and as the war progressed, the mutual distrust widened. None of the 
Generals whom the executive had most confidence in, and who were 
consequently appointed to the chief commands, were, in the Secre- 
tary's opinion, competent for their posts. It was Armstrong's favor- 
ite belief that victory would never attend our banner, until the old 
Generals were weeded out of the army, and new and more vigorous 
ones appointed in their place. The result certainly verified his views. 
His retirement from his office was attended by circumstances which 
favored his assertion at the time, that he had been unjustly treated ; 
for, when the capture of the capitol covered him with undeserved 
odium, instead of endeavoring to shield him, the President hinted 
that it would be best for him to be absent for a while. The truth 
was that it was Madison and not Armstrong, who was the real cause 
of the capture of the capitol. The President insisted that Windei 
should command the troops, and Armstrong objected. But the will 
of the President prevailed, and the imbecility of Winder caused a 
defeat. In the end, the popular clamors demanded a victim, and 
Armstrong, though the least criminal of all, was disingenuously sa- 
crificed to public opinion. Indignant at this treatment he threw up 
his office. His own generation blamed him for the fault of another; 
but it is the duty of the annalist to reverse this decision. 

John Armstrong was the son of General John Armstrong, a dis- 
tinguished officer of the Revolution, and was born at Carhsle, Penn- 
sylvania, i:: the year 1758. At the age of eighteen, contrary to the 
wishes of Lr. parents, he absconded from his studies and entered the 



JOHN ARMSTRONG. 109 

army as a volunteer. He was present at the battle of Princeton in 
the capacity of Aid-de-camp to General Mercer ; and after 'he conflict 
assisted lo bear the wounded and dying hero from the field. Subse- 
quently, he was invited by General Gates to become a member of his 
military family, and in tiiis situation, with the rank of Major, he con- 
tinued until the close of the war. He was the author of the celebrated 
Newburgh addresses which raised such a ferment in the army in 
1782, and which Washmgton pubhcly denounced as improper, fac- 
tious, and dangerous to the country. They were written with great 
abihty, and having something of justice as a foundation, were emi- 
nently calculated to exasperate the officers against Congress. It was 
with difficulty that even the Commander-in-chief could allay the 
storm. The writing of these letters was, in later life, a source of ob- 
loquy to Armstrong. Attempts have been made accordingly to de- 
fend his conduct. But though we can see some slight palliation, we 
cannot discover any legitimate excuse. The verdict of Washington 
in reference to these letters, pronounced many years subsequent to 
their publication, is, perhaps, the most impartial that can be given. 
This judgment exculpated Armstrong from intentional error, but 
censured the means he employed. " I have since," wrote Washington, 
" had sufficient reason for believing that the object of the author was 
just, honorable and friendly to the country, though the means sug- 
gested were certainly liable to much misunderstanding and abuse.'' 
After the conclusion of peace, Armstrong was Secretary of the 
state of Pennsylvania; during Franklin's administration. He was 
subsequently a member of the old Congress. In 1789 he married a 
sister of Chancellor Livingston, of New York, and removed to the 
latter commonwealth to reside. In 1800 he was elected a Senator 
of the United States. In 1804 he was appointed, by Jefferson, Min- 
ister, to the court of France. He continued to reside in Paris, dis- 
charging the duties of his mission, and acting also as ambassador to 
Spain, until 1810, when, at his own request, he was recalled, his 
health and his private affairs requiring his attention at nome. On 
the declaration of war in 1812 he was appointed a Brigadier ; but 
he had scarcely entered on his duties, when the resignation of Dr. 
Eustus as Secretary of War, opened his way to that high post. The 
President, it is understood, selected him with reluctance, but consi- 
dered the choice the best that could be made under the circumstances ; 
while Armstrong, on his part, accepted the post with misgivings, for 
he found, almost on his first interview, that Madison and himself dif- 
fered as to the Generals to be employed. " The old commanders have 
lost all ambitious aspirations," said the new Secretary, " while they 

X 



JOHN ARMSTRONG. 

have forgotten all they ever knew, and are ignorant of the later im 
provenients in military science." In the end, this difference of opin- 
ion, as we have already seen, led to the comparative alienation of 
the President and Secretary, and to the resignation of the latter in 
disgust. 

It was in February, 1813, that Armstrong assumed his new office. 
He immediately drew up a plan for the invasion of Canada, predica- 
ted on the capture of York, Kingston and other posts, and the obtain- 
ing command of the St. Lawrence, before the ice should leave 
that river, and recruits arrive from England. Had this scheme been 
executed with promptitude and vigor it is probable that Montreal 
would have fallen into our hands, and perhaps the whole province 
been triumphantly overrun. But Dearborn, then in command at the 
north, trifled with the precious moments, and the navigation was open- 
ed before anything could be effected. At last, the expedition against 
York was undertaken, a gallant exploit, but an almost useless one, 
since it was beginning at the extremity, instead of striking at the 
heart. Annoyed at these delays, Armstrong insisted that Wilkinson 
should be sent to supersede Dearborn, and that the war office should 
be changed to the north in order that he might personally inspect 
and hasten operations. But the campaign, though begun again un- 
der these happier auspices, proved a total failure. Armstrong re- 
venged himself, however, by abusing both his subordinates, thus 
proving that, if he was not a great war minister, he had at least a 
caustic pen. He continued in office until August, 1814. 

Armstrong, after his retirement, amused himself with literary 
labors. He wrote a sharp review of Wilkinson's Memoirs ; numerous 
short biographical notices; a* treatise on gardening, and ano- 
ther on agriculture, both considered admirable ; and a work in two 
volumes, entitled, " Notices of the War of 1812." The latter publi- 
cation is strongly tinged with the author's prejudices and acrimoni- 
ous feelings ; but displays a large share of military knowledge ; and 
is written in a very effective style. Indeed, Armstrong is decidedly 
the best military author America has produced; and it is to be re^ 
gretted that he did not live to finish a history of the Revolution, 
which he is understood to have begun. 

He retained his health in almost full vigor to the 84th year of hia 
age. Towards the close of 1842 he began to waste away, and 
sinking into a rapid decline, died on the 1st of April, 1843. 




GEORGE CROGHAN. 



H E first gleam of sue- 
cess in the north-west was 
the heroic defence of Fort 
Sandusky, by Major Geo. 
Croghan. This affair oc- 
curred on the 2d of August, 
1813, and exhilarated the 
pubUc mind in proportion 
to its former depression. 
A more gallant act it has 

_^__--__>^, - never been the province 

of the historian to record. Croghan was born at Loc.ist Grove, 
Kentucky, on the 15th of November, 1791. He received the bout 




112 GEORGE CROGHAN. 

education the grammar schools of his native state could atFord ; and 
entered the college of William and Mary, in Virginia, in his seven 
teenth year. In July, 1810, he graduated, and immediately began 
the study of the law. In the autumn of 1811, hcAvever, the dis 
covery of an Indian confederacy under Tecumseh, became public, 
and a large portion of the more spirited of the young men of Ken- 
lucky, resolved to offer their services in this emergency to their 
country. Croghan was one of this number. He first entered as a 
private 'for the campaign up the Wabash, but soon attracting the 
notice of his superiors, was made Aid-de-camp to General Boyd, the 
second in. command. This promotion was a short time preceding the 
battle of Tippecanoe. For his behaviour in that stoutly contested 
field, he received the thanks of the commanding General, and was 
presented with the commission of a Captain in the provincial army, 
directed to ^)e raised in the spring of 1812. 

In August of that year, Croghan accompanied the detachment 
under General Winchester, which marched from Kentucky to the 
relief of General Hull. As is well known, the premature •surrender 
of Hull rendered the advance of these reinforcements unnecessary, 
Croghan continued with Winchester, until, in the succeeding winter, 
that General moved upon the Rapids, when our hero was left in 
command of the fort just erected at the juncture of the Miami and 
Au Glaize rivers. In consequence of this arrangement, he escaped 
being made a prisoner with the rest of his comrades at the Raisin. 
Hri now joined Harrison at the Rapids. This was previous to the 
erection of Fort Meigs. On the completion of that work, Croghan 
was one of those besieged in it, with the commanding General; 
and Harrison frequently afterwards expressed the confidence he had 
reposed in his subordinate's judicious arrangements during that 
leaguer. On the occasion of the sortie of the 5th of May, Croghan 
commanded one of the companies under Colonel Miller, and, for his 
courageous deportment, was again noticed in general orders. In 
1813, Croghan was advanced to the rank of Major. The command 
of Fort Stephenson was now entrusted to him, and the consequence 
was that briUiant exploit which will enshrine his name to the latest 
posterity. 

A large body of Indian auxiliaries having assembled 'at Maiden, 
in the spring of 1813, Proctor, to give them employment, resolved 
to attack Fort Meigs, and subsequently Fort Stephenson, at Lower 
Sandusky. His design, in assaulting these places, was two-fold. 
By making a demonstration against Fort Meigs, he hoped to induce 
.he commander, Colonel Clay, to leave his entrenchments, and meet 



GEORGE CROGHAN. 113 

himself and Tecumseh in the open field. This was his first object 
His second was by seriously alarming Harrison, then at Lower San- 
dusky, for the safety of his out-posts and stores on the Miami, to 
induce that General to hasten to their defence, by which means the 
British leader thought the capture of Forts Stephenson, Cleveland, 
and Presque Isle, would be rendered comparatively easy, since no 
longer sustained by the army of the Commander-in-chief. Accord- 
ingly, these being the plans of his campaign. Proctor, on the 22d 
of May, advanced against Fort Meigs. But speedily discovering 
that his designs against that post promised little success, he raised 
the siege six days after, and dismissing a portion of his force to Mai- 
den, and sending another portion to watch Harrison, he hastened 
with the residue, twenty-two hundred, v/hite and red, to assail 
Fort Stephenson. 

Meanwhile, Croghan, the commander of that place, was in a most 
perilous condition. Harrison, having determined to retreat, had 
sent word to him to abandon the fort, and repair to camp ; but the 
young officer taking the order as a discretionary one, resolved to 
hold the position. The fort, however, presented few inducements 
to encourage resistance. Injudiciously placed, and badly construc- 
ted, neither finished nor furnished — stripped of a part even of its 
usual armament, and garrisoned by only one hundred and fifty 
men, it was scarcely v/orthy the name of a military work, and would 
have been considered untenable by four out of five ordinary officers. 
But the men who occupied that little post, as well as their heroic 
commander, were made of no common stuff. The disgrace of the 
preceding campaign had caused their cheeks to burn with shame, 
and they longed, one and all, for an opportunity to redeem the glory 
of their country, now suffering a sad eclipse. Accordingly, when 
notice was given of the approach of the enemy, there was but one 
opinion in the fort as to the course to be pursued. " We will repel 
the foe," was the cry, " or perish in the attempt," 

The instructions of Harrison had been that Croghan should 
abandon the fort on the approach of Proctor, provided a retreat 
should then be practicable. The disposition of the British force, 
however, rendered a retrograde movement difficult, if not impossible. 
Proctor's first object had been to surround the place with a cordon 
of Indians. This movement showed that he considered the retreat 
of the garrison so certain, as to render some precautions necessary 
to secure his ground. Having thus, as he thought, provided against 
the only contingency by which his enterprise could fail of complete suc- 
cess. Proctor despatched Captain Elhot, the half-breed, who had figured 
X* 15 



114 



GEORGE CROGHAN. 



in the massacre at the Raisin, to summon the fort to surrender. The 
demand was seconded witii a threat of indiscriminate slaughter in 
case of refusal. Croghan's answer was short and heroic ; " Go back 
to your leader/^ he exclaimed, " and tell him that brave men do not 
surrender without blows. We will defend the fort to the last extre- 
mity.'' With these words, he turned on the messenger, and regaining 
his companions, prepared to make good his words by a desperate 
defence. 

Yet, to have seen the scanty means at his disposal, would have 
made the heart of any man less brave, sink within him. The works 
were shamefully weak, and but a single cannon constituted the 
armament. These things, however, had all been known before, and 
duly considered by that little garrison. The resolution to defend the 
place had not been the Quixotic impulse of an hour, but the settled 
determination of days of calm dehberation. Croghan felt that it was 
better the whole garrison should be cut off, than that, by its retreat, 
hundreds of miles of frontier, with thousands of innocent inhabitants 
should be thrown open to the merciless savages. Moreover, he 
knew well the perfidy of Proctor. The very messenger the British 
General had sent had been ominous of massacre. The Americans, 
in consequence, resolved, like the heroic defenders of the Alamo in 
a similar emergency, to rely on their own stalwart arms and unerring 
aim, rather than on the word of a treacherous enemy, choosing to 
perish, if death must be their fate, in the noble effort to defend their 
flag, and not unresistingly under the scalping knife and tomahawk 
of the savage. A resolution worthy of freemen, and fortunately 
crowned with success ! 

Proctor, though fully expecting a surrender, had not, however, 
intermitted his preparations for a siege, and by the time his messen- 
ger returned with a defiance, had landed his artillery, and placed it 
so as to support his gun-boats. A fire was immediately opened on the 
fort. Soon the balls began to strike the works, knocking the 
splinters in every direction. The day, meanwhile, departed, but 
darkness was not allowed by the eager enemy to retard his opera- 
tions. AU ihroog'i that mid-summer night cannon shook the neigh- 
boring shores with their roar, and flung a lurid blaze across the 
gloom. It was no time for slumber, consequently, in the American 
camp. Every man was at his post, or convenient to it ; every cartridge 
box was seen to be supplied ; every musket was examined, and the 
point of every blade tried, that they might be sure to do their work. 
Croghan passed and re-passed among his troops, in order to convince 
Uimself that nothing was omitted. Now and then, perhaps, as he or 



GEORGE CROGHAN. 115 

his soldiers looked out on the plain below, ana beheld the thick 
masses of the enemy, revealed every few minutes by the flashes of 
the cannon, their thoughts might revert to the terrible chances against 
them on the morrow, and, in fancy, memory would return to the 
homes they had left, and the lovely faces that made those homes so 
dear, never, perhaps, to be seen again. But feelings like these were 
not suffered to unman them. On the contrary, at every such thought, 
the musket was grasped more tightly, and a silent vow taken to 
fight as if those distant ones were looking on. Occasionally, between 
the sound of the explosions, wild noises would come up from the 
flanks of the enemy, which the soldiers too well knew to be the 
shouts of the savages, as their braves boasted of the scalps they 
should take on the morrow ; and, once or twice, there were those 
who saw, or fancied they saw, the figures of painted Indians dancing, 
the scene blazing out an instant in the blue and ghastly light of the 
caniionade, like a vision of fiends at their orgies. 

Morning came slowly and wearily to the besiegers, but with 
wings of lightning to the besieged. As the grey dawn melted into 
the rosy hues of sunrise, many a brave man within that fort looked 
up for the last time, as he thought, to heaven, but still with no 
unmanly fear ; only with that sad feeling which the boldest will expe- 
rience when he sees himself about to be immolated. Such a feeling 
perhaps, crossed the heart of Leonidas, when he fastened on his 
buckler, and waited for the Persian thousands. Croghan was in the 
front of his men, calm m that hour of extreme peril. But it soon 
became evident that the enemy did not intend an immediate assault, 
for he had established a new battery, consisting of six pounders, 
within two hundred and fifty yards of the pickets. A respite was 
thus gained for the defenders. But it was a respite allowing no 
repose, and only a protraction of their suspense. The fire of this new 
battery soon began, and the air shook with concussions. The balls 
hurtled around the fort, or bounded from the ramparts. The 
surface of the ground in the line of fire, became covered with smoke, 
which, every few minutes, would rend asunder, and a ball come 
whistUng along. Thus the morning passed. Noon came, but the 
roar of the cannonade was undiminished. And even when the hot 
August sun began to decline in the west, the blaze of artillery still 
went on, and the suspense of the besieged continued. 

At last the fire of the British was seen to be concentrated on the 
north-west corner of the fort, and now Croghan no longer doubted as 
to the point where the attack was to be made. He accordingly 
hastened in person to the threatened spot. Every man that could be 



116 



GEORGE CROGHAN. 



spared from other quarters, was put in requisition, and all the bags 
of flour and sand that could be found, were hurriedly collected, 
and arranged to strengthen the angle. The solitary cannon, the 
only hope of the defenders, was charged with grape-shot, and placed 
so as to enfilade the assailants. Then each soldier took his post. A 
profound silence succeeded within the fort. This lasted for perhaps, 
two minutes, at the end of which the enemy was seen advancing 
through the smoke, his troops formed in one compact column, and 
marching with the steady tread of assured victors. When Croghan 
gave the order to fire, such a rattling volley was poured in by the 
garrison, that the enemy reeled and fell into disorder. But, at this 
crisis. Lieutenant-colonel Short, who led the British in the assault, 
sprang to the head of his soldiers, and waving his sword, called to 
them to follow, bidding them with oaths, to remember that no 
quarter was to be given. A savage shout answered this address, 




DSFENCB OF 70RT BTEPHBRBOIf. 



and the ranks recovering their order, the head of the column tushed 
forward, and leaped down into the ditch, which was soon densely 
crowded. 

This was the moment for which Croghan had waited. Another 
minute, perhaps, would have given the fort to the foe ; but that 
muiute many of his best men were destined never to see. The 



GEORGE CROGHAN. 117 

single cannon of the garrison, placed so as to rake the assailants, 
now bore full on the masses of soldiery in the ditch, and the mask 
being suddenly removed, the whole fearful contents of the piece 
swept the solid ranks before it. There was a gush of flame, a stun- 
ning explosion, and the hissing sound of grape — then, as the white 
smoke floated back on the besiegers, the prospect was, for an instant, 
hidden. But when the veil of battle blew aside, a scene of horror 
was exhibited, such as those who witnessed it have described as 
one of the most awful on record. At first a lane, perceptible to 
every eye, and extending right through the densest portion of the 
assaulting mass, marked the path traversed by the shot, but as the 
distance from the gun increased, and the grape scattered, this clearly 
defined line disappeared, and a prospect of the wildest confusion 
ensued. One third of those who had entered the ditch, lay there a 
shapeless, quivering mass. In many instances, the dead had fallen 
on the wounded, and as the latter struggled to extricate themselves, 
the scene resembled that depicted in old paintings of the Final 
Judgment, where fiends and men wrestle in horrible contortions. 
Groans, shrieks, and curses more terrible than all, rose from that 
Golgotha ! The few who retained life and strength, after the first 
second of amazement, rushed from the post of peril, leaped wildly 
upon the bank, and communicating their terror to the rest of the 
column, the whole took, to flight, and buried itself in the neighboring 
woods. As this occurred, such a shout went up to heaven from the 
conquerors as never had been heard on that wild shore before. And 
well might the Americans exult — for it was against ten times their 
own number they had achieved a victory. 

In recompense for this gallant exploit, Croghan was elevated to 
the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. His name was eulogized in Con- 
gress, and hailed with applause throughout the country as that of one, 
who united in himself the prudence of the veteran, and the courage of 
the hero. His military genius, indeed, had been proved by his uniform 
conduct, to be of a very high order. During his campaign under Win- 
chester, he became celebrated among his companions for the judi- 
cious selection he made of his ground wherever the army encamped, 
and for his throwing up some slight fortifications, even when the 
stay was to be but for a night. He was remarkable also for a manly 
and open character, for chivalrous sentiment, and for an intellect of 
more than ordinary force. In 1835, Congress presented him a gold 
medal, in commemoration of his defence of Fort Stephenson. 

Croghan made an unsuccessful attempt after the battle of the 
Thames to recover the post of Mackinaw. On the conclusion of 



HB GEORGE CROGHAIT, 

peace, he was retained in the army, but resigned in 1817. Soon afte 
he was appointed Post-Master at New Orleans. In 1825, however, 
he returned to the army, and accepted the post of Inspector-Generax, 
which he still worthily fills. He joined the army in Mexico on the 
march to Monterey, and was present at the assault of that place. 
During the crisis of one of the three days fighting, when a Ten- 
nessee regiment shook under a tremendous concentric fire, Croghan 
rushed to the front, and taking off his hat, the wind tossing his grey 
hairs, he shouted : " Men of Tennessee, your fathers conquered with 
Jackson at New Orleans — follow me !" The stirring words were 
received with a burst of cheers, and the troops re-animated, dashed 
on. In the list of brevets subsequently conferred for gallantry in 
this action, his name was, however, by some oversight, overlooked, 
and he was unwillingly recalled soon after to the United States. 

Croghan died at New Orleans, on the 8th of January, 1849. With 
the evening gun of that memorable anniversary, his spirit passed away. 





WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON 




ARRISON was one of the 

successful Generals of the las* 
war. It was under him that 
the first victories were gain- 
ed over the British in the 
north-west ; and his name will go down 
M to posterity indissolubly connected with 
^"' the battle of the Thames. He is even 



more honorably remembered for his In- 
dian wars, however : and as the hero of 
Tippecanoe has gained a fast hold on the 
ublic heart. Perhaps, critically speaking, he was inferior, in military 

119 




120 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 



genius, to both Jackson and Brown. He wanted the terrible energy, 
the almost reckless boldness which characterized these two leaders. 
He belonged to a different school altogether. His was the policy of 
Fabius, rather than of Marcellus ; and this r.ot from necessity, but 
from choice. The bent of his mind was to be prudent, economic of 
means, willing to listen to advice. 

William Henry Harrison was the son of Benjamin Harrison, one 
of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He was born at 
Berkley, the residence of his father, in the county of Charles City, 
Virginia, on the 9th of February, 1773. He received his education 
at Hampden Sydney College, in his native state. At the ago of se- 
venteen he graduated, and turned his attention to the study of medi- 
cine. His father dying, however, in the succeeding year, he aban- 
doned all thoughts of this profession, and solicited an Ensigncy in 
the United States army. In 1791, accordingly, he received a com- 
mission, and was immediately ordered to his regiment, then station- 
ed at Fort Washington, where the city of Cincinnati has since be n 
built. The war which raged with the western Indians gave the 
young soldier numerous opportunities to distinguish himself; and he 
was, on more than one occasion, mentioned in flattering terms by 
his superior officer. Promotion rapidly followed. In 1792 he was 
raised to the rank of Lieutenant. In 1794, on the victory of Wayne, 
he became a Captain. Soon after, peace having been concluded 
with the Indians, he was honored with the command of Fort Wash- 
ington. During the whole of this period he had resided, without 
intermission, in the west, and had now become so thoroughly identi- 
fied with its interests, that it needed but little temptation to induce 
him to make that his permanent home. 

Accordingly in 1797 he resigned his commission in the army, in 
order to be appointed Secretary of the north-western territory. The 
vast district, then known under this name, comprised what are now 
the states of Ohio, Indiana, Michigan and Illinois. In'l799, when 
the territory sent its first delegate to Congress, Harrison was chosen 
the representative. His career as a legislator was distinguished by 
practical sense and an untiring endeavor to benefit his constituents. 
Among other measures, he procured an alteration in the law provi- 
ding for the sale of public lands. Up to that period, the smallest 
portion of land which the government would dispose of to one indi- 
vidual was four thousand acres. This practice, though convenient 
for tiie government, was injurious to the west, and unjust to the peo- 
ple. It was, in fact, holding out inducements to the wealthy specu- 
lators, and virtually excluding the poorer classes, who composed 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 121 

the real settlers, from being purchasers. Harrison procured the pas- 
sage of an act which provided that the public lands should be sold 
in alternate sections and half sections, the former comprising six 
nundred and forty acres, and the latter three hundred and twenty 
acres each. This change proved highly beneficial. The settlers 
of comparatively humble means were no longer at the mercy of the 
land speculators, and as a consequence, emigration to the west tri- 
pled itself within a few years. 

When Indiana, in 1801, was erected into a distinct territorial go- 
vernment, Harrison was appointed its Governor, with extraordinary 
powers. His administration was so popular with the people, that. 
at their solicitation, he was re-appointed to this office, by both Jef- 
ferson and Madison, down to the year 1813. His knowledge of In- 
dian affairs rendered him, during all this period, prominent in every 
transaction with the savages. In 1803, Jefferson had appointed him 
a " commissioner to enter into any treaties which might be necessary 
with any Indian tribes north-west of the Ohio, and within the terri- 
tory of the United States, on the subject of their boundaries or lands." 
In his capacity of commissioner, under this appointment, he executed 
no less than thirteen treaties with different tribes. By his sagacity 
and wisdom the western border was preserved, for many years, in a 
state of comparative security. As the impression of Wayne's vic- 
tory began to wear away, however, the Indians, always restless, 
thirsted to take up the hatchet. The instigation of England, whose 
emissaries increased with the probabilities of a war between her and 
the United States, assisted to fan the flame of discord. But peace 
might, perhaps, still have been preserved but for the exertions of Te- 
cumseh, an Indian chief, who had conceived the design of uniting 
all his race in one great league against the whites, and thus endea- 
voring to recover the lands and hunting grounds of his ancestors. 

Had Tecumseh been a Roman, and successful in his design, his 
name would have been immortalized by this gigantic plan. He knew 
by the traditions of his people, that scarcely three centuries had 
passed since the white man first landed in America ; and patriarchs 
were still living among his tribe, who could recollect when the AUe- 
ghanies formed the boundary to civilization. He himself had seen 
how, year by year, the great tide of population rolled westward, 
obliterating forest, village and wigwam, like the sea gaining steadily 
upon the shore. Where once the smoke of the council-fire curleu 
up amid the boundless wilderness ; where once the hunter roamed 
fearless, knowing that, far as he went, the land was all his own ; 
where once the Indian girl sang her love-song, the Indian wife 

Y 



122 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 



plaited her mat, or the Indian children gambolled before the cabin 
door, now rose the tall chimney of the furnace, now surged along the 
dense population of cities, now was heard the clatter of the mill-wheel, 
the roar of manufactories, and all the other noisy accompaniments 
of civilized life. Each year the Indian saw his territory decrease, and 
bis white neighbor crowd him further towards the setting sun. Is it 
to be wondered at that Tecumseh regarded the Americans as his 
natural enemies, that he vowed against them eternal hostility, and 
that he sought to unite all the red tribes in one immense league 
against these natural foes of his race ? Yet even he must, at times, 
when revolving his stupendous plans, have felt how impotent would 
be resistance against what seemed to be the inevitable decree of Pro- 
vidence. 

Tecumseh was assisted in his enterprise by his brother, who was 
known by the name of" the Prophet." Together these two labored 
to excite the savages against the United States. Their designs at 
last began to attract the attention of government. Murders and other 
outrages became of frequent occurrence. Some great movement 
against the whites was obviously in preparation. Determined to 
take the initiative, the United States assembled a force of regulars 
and militia in 1811, and placing it under the command of Harrison, 
directed him to march against the Prophet's town of Tippecanoe, and 
demand the restoration of such property as had been carried off by the 
Indians. If his request was refused, he was to proceed and enforce 
the claim. Accordingly, Harrison, losing no time in delay, arrived 
before the town on the 6th of November. Here he was met by mes- 
sengers from the Prophet, deprecating hostihties and promising that 
ail differences should be adjusted on the morrow. Relying in part 
on this stipulation, yet ahve to the treachery of the Indian character, 
Harrison was perplexed what to do, since to seem to doubt the foe 
might produce the very danger he wished to avoid, while to trust 
implicitly to him might insure destruction. He resolvecJ, finally, to 
encamp for the night on an elevated piece of dry oak land, situated 
between two prairies, a position affording the best means of defence 
in the vicinity. 

His mistrust of the enemy was so great, however, that he encamp- 
ed his men in order of battle, and directed them to rest on their arms ; 
hence, if attacked in the night, they would be ready instantaneously 
for t\e contest. The line was formed also with great skill. The front 
and rear were composed of infantry, separated on the right about 
mnety yards, and on the left about twice that distance. The front 
line contained a battalion of the fourth regiment of regulars, com- 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 123 

manded by Major Floyd ; the rear line was formed of another bat- 
talion of the fourth, under Captain Baer. On the rear of the left 
flank was posted a company of sixty dragoons ; and in the rear of 
the front line another more numerous. The left flank was defended 
by about one hundred and fifty mounted riflemen, under General 
Wells, of Kentucky ; and the right flank by Spencer's company of 
mounted riflemen, in numbers about eighty. Two companies of 
militia flanked the right of Major Floyd, and on his left Captain 
Baer's hne was flanked by four companies of militia under Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel Decker. Thus judiciously posted, the Uttle army lay 
down to slumber. 

Before daybreak, however, on the morning of the 7th of Novem- 
ber, the soldiers were startled by the sound of the war-whoop close 
to the lines. Instantly every man sprang to his arms. Louder and 
nearer rose the yells of the Indians, followed by the rapid dropping 
of shots ; and speedily the pickets, driven before overwhelming 
numbers, came pouring into the camp. Never were the high quah- 
ti^js of the American soldier more gloriously displayed than in this 
emergency. Though surprised, and scarcely yet awake, each man 
knew at once what to do. The first weight of the assault fell on Cap- 
tain Barton's regulars and the mounted riflemen of Captain Geiger, 
and with such impetuosity did it burst, that a few savages actually 
cut through the ranks and penetrated into the camp. But this spec- 
tacle, instead of creating a panic, only roused the soldiers to the most 
desperate exertions. Reinforcements were hurried to the front. 
The Indians in the camp paid for their temerity with their lives. But 
suddenly, while the attention of the General was thus occupied, a tre- 
mendous fire was opened in another quarter, to the left of the front, 
on the companies of Baer, Prescott and Snelling. At the same time 
the savages appeared in great force among some trees a few yards in 
advance of the front. The flashes of their guns followed each other 
in rapid succession, and soldier after soldier fell beneath their uner- 
ring aim. Yet not a man flinched. The regulars died where they stood ; 
the mounted men were decimated unmoved ; and the volunteers, 
regardless of their fast thinning ranks, still bravely faced the foe. 

In this emergency, Major Davies, who had been posted in the 
rear of the front line, was ordered to charge the enemy with his 
cavalry. Calling to his men to follow, he dashed gallantly forward, 
but almost immediately received a mortal wound ; while his troops, 
unable to withstand the close and well directed fire of the savages, 
fell back in disorder. The yells of the Indians now redoubled, and 
in this part of the field rose triumphant over the rattUng of the mus- 



124 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON* 



ketry. Captain Snelling was next ordered to charge with the oayo 
net. The command was received with a cheer, the long Hne of 
gUstening steel was levelled, and the little phalanx of regulars was 
launched like a thunderbolt on the foe. The Indians gave way in 
affright. But this success crowned only one portion of the field- On 
all the others the savages still maintained their positions, and conti- 
nued to pour in heavy and destructive discharges. The light was 
still too faint to detect the situations held by the Indians, except when 
the flashes of the guns lit up their dark forms in the back-ground, or 
a sudden burst of yells betrayed them in some near locality. The 
whole camp, however, was occasionally girdled with fire. Spencer's 
mounted riflemen and the right of Warrick's company appeared to 
be especial marks for the foe. The slaughter among these brave 
men was awful. Captain Spencer was killed, as was also his first 
and second Lieutenant ; Captain Warrick fell, mortally wounded ; 
and the men dropped from their ranks continually. The Americans 
could do nothing until morning broke, except maintain their 
posts, and keep up an intermitting round of vollies. This they did 
effectually. One rolling discharge after another shook the solid 
ground and hurled its missiles of death against the foe, until the 
smoke of the pieces grew so thick, that it increased the darkness 
and thus prolonged the danger. 

At last the dawn broke, and soon, in the increasing light, the po- 
sition of the foe became distinctly defined. The exact locality of the 
savages on the left was now reconnoitred for the purpose of a charge ; 
and Major Wells, in the most brilliant manner, leading his men 
down the slope, broke the line of the enemy. The Indians were 
no sooner perceived to be retreating, than a detachment of cavalry 
was hurled among them. Their consternation on this became gene- 
ral. Driven furiously by the horsemen, who cut them down almost 
unresistingly, and as fast as the sabre could be plied, they rushed 
wildly forwards, crowding and treading on each other in their ter 
ror, until they finally plunged themselves into a marsh where the 
cavalry could not follow. The victory in this quarter was complete. 
Simultaneously the companies of Captain Cook and Lieutenant La 
rabie were ordered to advance against the savages on the right, sus- 
tauied by the mounted riflemen. The movement was executed with 
great gallantry. The Indians broke and fled. Our troops pursued, 
throwing in the bayonet, wherever it was possible, the cheers that 
rose from every part of the field, stimulating them with assurances 
of a complete victory. The enemy was now flying, indeed, in all 
directions. Harrison had gained a decisive triumph. 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISOIf. 125 

In the battle of Tippecanoe the inherent courage, combined with 
the intelligence of the American soldier, was strikingly exem- 
plified. Rarely has any body of troops been attacked under circum- 
stances more discouraging to the assailed. . The numbers and posi- 
tion of the foe were unknown; the darkness prevented aggressive 
measures ; and nothing remained but to stand firm until dawn, a 
mark for the concentric fire of the enemy. The scattered nature of 
the Indian forces magnified their strength, lessened the mortality of 
our fire, and assisted to dishearten the soldiers. During the greater 
portion of the battle there was no opportunity for the exercise of 
generalship, or of any quality in either officers or men, except pas- 
sive courage. Yet nobly did the American soldier vindicate his 
blood. When morning dawned at last, and the positions of the 
savages could be made out, how readily, and with what splendid 
courage he came to the assault ! The loss of the Indians was exces- 
sive, considering the caution with which they hazard life ; it was 
one hundred and fifty. That of the Americans, in killed and wounded, 
was one hundred and eighty-eight. 

The victory was immediately followed up by vigorous measures 
against the offending tribe. On the 9th, two days after the battle, 
Harrison burned the Prophet's town. He next proceeded to lay 
waste the contiguous districts. The Indians, struck dumb with 
astonishment at their unexpected defeat, and finding themselves pow- 
erless to resist their foe, now sued for submission. Perhaps if Tecum- 
seh had been present, the contest would have been more protracted j 
but that indomitable chieftain was in the south, engaged in stirring 
up the Creeks to war. Having completed all the purposes of the 
campaign, Harrison now set out on his return. Everywhere, as he 
traversed the inhabited country, he was received with enthusiasm. 
The people hailed him as the preserver of beauty from the toma- 
hawk of the savage ; as the defender of civilization against barbarian 
inroads ; as the hero whose sword carried victory upon its point. No 
man, in the whole west, was more popular. 

Accordingly when, in the succeeding year, the capture of Hull 
aroused the nation to the necessity of a more active prosecution of 
the war, the public voice at once fixed on Harrison as the only man 
capable of leading the army to success and glory in the north-west. 
When the news of the fall of Detroit reached Kentucky, Harrison 
was on a visit to that state, and was almost immediately invested, 
by the Governor, with the rank of Major-General. This was done 
although Harrison was not a citizen of Kentucky, in order that he 
might rank Winchester, a Brigadier. Some difficulty, in consequence 

XI* 



126 WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

of this irregularity, ensued between the two Generals in reference to 
which should hold supreme command ; but it was terminated by 
the President, who assigned it to Harrison, and made Winchester 
second in authority. Before this, however, and immediately on 
receiving his appointment from the Governor of Kentucky, Harrison 
had marched to relieve the frontier posts, at the head of a body of 
militia, hastily collected. He left Cincinnati on the 29th of August, 
1812, and on the 3rd of September arrived at Piqua. His force now 
amounted to about twenty-five hundred men. Believing that an 
autumnal campaign held out prospects of success, he lost no more 
time at this place than was absolutely necessary to complete his 
arrangements and receive his military stores. 

On the 6th he marched for Fort Wayne, situated at the head of 
the Miami of the Lake, a river formed by the confluence of the St. 
Mary and St. Joseph. This post had been invested, for some 
time, by Indians, but, at the approach of the Americans, they fled in 
haste. On the 12th, Harrison arrived at Fort Wayne, and was fol- 
lowed, on the 19th, by Winchester, with reinforcements. The diffi- 
culty with respect to the rank of the two Generals not having been 
yet adjusted, Harrison yielded the command to Winchester, and 
started for his own government, at the head of a body of mounted 
men, intending to operate against the Indian settlements in that quar- 
ter. He had proceeded, however, but a short distance, when an 
express from Washington overtook him, with a notification that the 
disputed point had been decided in his favor. He accordingly 
returned to Fort Wayne, but found that Winchester had set out for 
Fort Defiance, the preceding day. This latter General arrived at 
Fort Defiance on the 30th, after a toilsome march. Here, on the 
3rd of October, Harrison overtook him ; but left on the 4th, to bring 
up the centre and right wing. He first, however, despatched Gene- 
ral Tupper, with a thousand men, on an expedition against the 
Rapids. Owing to the defection of the Ohio militia, as well as to a 
disagreement between Tupper and Winchester, the enterprise was 
never carried into efiect. The autumn was consumed in a series of 
petty attempts upon the foe ; but no great movement was under^ 
taken ; for the dearth of supplies frustrated any attempts of mag- 
nitude. Michigan did not afford even forage for the horses. " To 
get supplies forward,'' wrote Harrison to the department at Wash- 
ington, " through a swampy wilderness of near two hundred miles, 
in wagons or on pack horses, which are also to carry their own pro- 
visions, is absolutely impossible." In consequence of this difficulty 
an autumnal campaign was abandoned. 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 127 

But Harrison was still sanguine that, in the winter, he should be 
Able to strike a successful blow at Maiden. His plan of operations did 
not vary much from that projected for the autumn : it was to occupy 
the Rapids of the Miami, and having collected a sufficient quantity 
of provisions there, to advance towards Detroit, make a feint against 
that place, and then suddenly passing the strait upon the ice, invest 
Maiden. His whole effective force was about six thousand three 
hundred men, divided into three detachments, one at Fort Defiance, 
another at Fort M' Arthur, and a third at Upper Sandusky. The 
different divisions were to concentrate at the Rapids. Winchester, 
who commanded at Fort Defiance, was the first to arrive at the ren- 
dezvous. Here he began to form a fortified camp. Having been 
induced to send forward a portion of his force to Frenchtown, in 
order to protect the inhabitants of that place from the savages, a 
victory was the consequence, which so elated the troops left behind, 
that the}'' insisted on marching to share the glory <.( their comrades. 
Accordingly, Winchester, at the head of the remainder of his detach- 
ment, advanced also to the river Raisin, where the united forces sus- 
tained that terrible defeat, followed by a massacre, which we have 
narrated in its proper place. 

Harrison had arrived at Lower Sandusky on his way to th6 place 
of rendezvous, when he heard of the party sent forward to French- 
town by Winchester. The intelligence paralyzed the older officers 
of the army. Alarmed for the consequences, Harrison hastened his 
march, and reaching the Rapids, discovered that Winchester, deceived 
by the delusive victory, had pushed on in person to the Raisin. The 
force under Harrison's immediate command did not amount to quite 
seven hundred men, yet he decided at once to follow his subordi- 
nate, hoping to overtake him before it would be too late. He had left 
the Rapids but three miles behind him, however, when he heard of 
the disastrous defeat of Winchester. A hurried consultation now 
took place, when a retreat towards Sandusky was decided on. This 
decision was hasty. To have advanced against fifteen hundred victo- 
rious troops, with a force less than twice that number would, indeed, 
have been madness ; but it did not follow that a post, already par- 
tially fortified, should be dismantled, its provisions destroyed, and 
the garrison withdrawn. Such, however, was the decision of the 
council. The unnecessary haste of this measure was atoned for par- 
tially in the ensuing month, when Harrison advanced again to the 
Rapids, and began to fortify the post anew, under the name of Fort 
Meigs. Meantime, however, he had retired to Carrying River, about 
midway between this place and Sandusky. With this retreat, Har- 



128 WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 

rison's winter campaign terminated. It had been even less success- 
ful than the autumnal one. 

The ensuing spring opened with more eclat. Proctor, at the head 
of a combined force of regulars and savages, twenty-two hundred 
strong, advanced against Fort Meigs about the middle of April, 
hoping to capture it before the arrival of Harrison's reinforcements 
and supplies ; for in consequence of the term of service of a large oor- 
tion of the troops having expired, the American army was com- 
paratively weak, and anxiously awaited the appearance of General 
Clay, from Cincinnati, with the new levies, amounting to twelve 
hundred men. Incessant rains prevented Proctor from opening his 
batteries before the first of May. The garrison, however, though 
little over a thousand, was not intimidated. The fort was strong 
and well supplied with cannon ; and the men relied even enthusias- 
tically upon their leader. Moreover, the time had been judiciously 
employed in throwing up a grand traverse, twelve feet high and 
three hundred yards long, which effectually covered the besieged. 
On the 5th of May, a small party sent forward by General Clay, 
arrived. Harrison now conceived the plan of making a sortie against 
the enemy, to be sustained by General Clay's detachment. The 
attack of General Clay was, at first, made with spirit, but finally 
failed, principally because of the imprudence and insubordination of 
the troops. The sortie from the fort, under Colonel Miller, was 
more successful, though, in consequence of General Clay's repulse, 
it was rendered abortive in the end. It is disgraceful to record that 
the cruelties visited on their prisoners by the savages, and this too 
in presence of the British officers, was such as to make humanity 
revolt at recordnig them. Proctor, notwithstanding his partial suc- 
cess in this engagement, soon found that he neither could make any 
impression on the works of the batteries, nor hope to carry the place 
by storm ; accordingly, on the 9th of May, four days after the battle, 
he raised the siege and began a precipitate retreat, carrying off with 
him his artillery. The Americans did not, however, molest him. 
The garrison lost about two hundred and sixty in killed and wounded 
during the siege, principally in the affair of the 5th. The repulse of 
Proctor from Fort Meigs obliterated, in a measure, the misfortunes 
of the preceding winter and autumn, and the name of Harrison was 
once more regarded, especially in the west, as a sure presage of tri- 
umph 

And, in justice to Harrison, it must be said that the failure of the 
autumnal and winter campaigns cannot wholly be attributed to him. 
Though not a bold man, he was sufficiently brave, and would hav© 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 129 

succeeded if prudence had not forbidden him to risk too much. He 
has been charged with excess of caution ; but it was better to err on 
this side than on that of rashness. His troops, moreover, were undis- 
cipHned, and scarcelj^ fit to cope with British regulars. But the great 
defect of both campaigns was the attempt to reduce Canada without 
first obtaining the command of Lake Erie. As we have seen, the 
suppUes of the army had to be carried a distance of two hundred 
miles, principally on pack-horses, and consequently at an enormous 
expense. The drivers of these pack-horses were generally of the 
most worthless description, who, by their carelessness, broke down 
their animals and destroyed the goods. Wagons Avere so difficult to 
obtain, that when used, the teams were valued at an excessive price, 
which operated as a bounty to induce the owners to drive them to 
debility or death, in order to get the price. No bills of lading were 
used, nor accounts kept with the wagoners, and of course the plun- 
der of the public goods went on without restraint. The immense 
sums thus squandered in supplying the army almost surpasses belief. 
" From my knowledge of the cost of transportation,'^ wrote Harri- 
son to the Secretary of War, in December, 1812, " I do believe that 
the expense that will be incurred in the course of six weeks in the 
spring, in moving the provisions of the army along the roads leading 
from the Rapids to Detroit, wruld build and equip all the vessels 
necessary to give us the command of the lake." Hence, Harrison 
urged on the government the construction of a fleet on Lake Erie. 
His advice was finally adopted, and suitable vessels built in the sum- 
mer of 1813. The victory of Perry over the English squadron, on 
the 10th of September in that year, followed, and laid open, at once, 
the whole of that portion of Canada to invasion. 

Harrison lost no time in availing himself of the fruits of this naval 
triumph. He immediately embarked his army, and on the 27th of 
September, landed on the enemy's shores. Meantime consternation 
had seized Proctor. Abandoning Maiden, notwithstanding the 
reproaches of T^cumseh, the British General began an ignominious 
flight. Harrison, now reinforced by Colonel R. M. Johnson, at the 
head of one thousand mounted Kentucky men, pressed forward in 
pursuit; and, on the 5th of October, overtook the fugitives on the 
banks of the Thames, and gained a decisive triumph. The victory 
was won chiefly by the regiment of Johnson, who pressed forward 
with such impetuosity that the terrified enemy threw down his arms 
before the American infantry could get into action. By this glorious 
event, the direct result of Harrison's foresight and skill, all the terri- 
tory surrendered by Hull was recovered ; a vast quantity of small 

17 



130 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 



arms and stores was captured ; and what was, perhaps, of even more 
importance, the disgrace of that event was wiped from our arms, and 
the Indian confederacy under Tecumseh broken forever. Among 
the trophies were three pieces of artillery which had been taken 




OElfEBAl. EARBISON'b ASMT CBOSSIMG LAXE XRIB. 



from the British at Saratoga, and had subsequently reverted to their 
original possessors by the surrender of Hull. 

Harrison, having taken possession of Detroit, and finding himself 
without orders from the war department, resolved to proceed in the 
fleet to Buffalo. Here he arrived on the 24th of October, and from 
this place marched to Newark, where he received orders to send 
McArthur's brigade to Sackett's Harbor, accompanied by an intima- 
tion that he had leave to return to his family. Harrison received 
this declaration as a hint to retire from his command. He obeyed 
the order, however, but soon after sent in his resignation. Arm- 
strong, then Secretary of War, from whom the order proceeded, has 
charged Pfarrison with imbecility in his command, asserting that his 
successes were the result of good fortune and not of plans well con- 
ceived. After the narrative we have given of Harrison's military 
career, it is impossible to coincide in opinion with the vindictive 
Secretary. Harrison was not a Wayne nor a Jackson ; he belonged, 
as we have said, to a less dashing school ; but he was an infinitely 
better officer than Armstrong, or than most of his cotemporaries. 
After Brown, Jackson and Scott, he ranks pre-eminent. 

The remainder of Harrison's career was chiefly political, and we 



WILLIAM HENRY HAREISOW. 131 

shall, therefore, dismiss it with a rapid summary. In 1814 he was 
appointed with General Cass and Governor Shelby, to treat with the 
north-western Indians; aid in 1815 to treat with numerous other 
tribes. In 1817 he was elected a representative to Congress from 
Ohio, having, at the close of the war, purchased a seat at North 
Bend, below Cincinnati. During his term he demanded an investi- 
gation of certain reports to his disadvantage, in relation to the manage- 
ment of the commissariat department in the army under liis control. 
A committee being appointed, his character was fully vindicated by 
their report. He voted, during this session, to censure General 
Jackson for having seized the Spanish posts in Florida. Having been 
elected a member of the Ohio Senate in 1819, he now transferred 
his counsels to that body. In 1824 he was chosen a United States 
Senator from Ohio. His career in that body was marked by his 
endeavors to procure the passage of a just and proper pension law, 
for the benefit of those who had shed their blood in the battles of 
their country. In 1828, Harrison was appointed Minister to the 
republic of Columbia, but was recalled by Jackson, on the elevation 
of the latter to the Presidency in 1829. He now retired to private 
life. His farm and his books employed his time; and his table was 
ever ready for the calls of hospitality. He ultimately found, how- 
ever, that his income was not adequate to the support of his family ; 
and accordingly, in 1834, accepted the office of Prothonotary of the 
court of Hamilton county, Ohio. 

In this office he continued until his election to the Presidency in 

1840. He was first made a candidate for that high office in 1836, 
but defeated, the successful candidate, Mr. Van Buren, receiving 
one hundred and seventy of the electoral votes, while Harrison 
obtained but seventy. At the next trial, however, in 1840, he was 
chosen President by a larger majority of votes in the electoral col- 
lege than has ever yet been bestowed on any man ; for he received 
two hundred and thirty -four votes out of the whole number of two 
hundred and ninety-four. He was inaugurated on the 4th of March, 

1841. One month later, to a day, he breathed his last, after a ?hort 
but severe illness, being the first President to die in that office. His 
decease was caused principally by the excitement of his new posi- 
tion, and the manner in which he was harassed, day and night, by 
applicants for office. Popular in manners, and too easy of access, his 
frame worn down by exposure and years, he gave way beneath the 
exactions to which he was subjected. He died thinking of his coun- 
try. << The constitution — the constitution," were the words that were 



132 



WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 



continually o^ his lips. The demonstrations of grief at his decease 
were universal ; party rancor was forgotten for awhile ; and the 
nation, as one man, united to deplore its loss. 





RICHARD M. JOHNSON. 



HE state of Kentucky, so fertile m 
great men, had the honor of givmg 
I irth to Colonel Richard M. Johnson, 
The early life of this distinguished 
warrior was passed in the midst of 
Indian alarms. While still an infan} 
he was sent with his mother to take 
^ refuge in a frontier fort, against an in 
road of the savages, his father being 
absent in Virginia. The fort wa'^* 
successfully defended by thirty men 
against five hundred Indians. Similar perils inured the young Ken- 
tuckian to danger; while his active hfe hardened his frame. 

His education was simple, as in all new countries. A common 
xn 133 




134 



RICHARD M. JOHNSON. 



school at first, and subsequently a grammar school prepared him for 
the study of the law. At nineteen he began to practice this profes- 
sion. At twenty -two he was elected to the legislature of his native 
state. Little more than two years later, he was sent to Congress, as 
a member of the House of Representatives, having just attained the 
age required by the Constitution. Here he was called on to vote 
for a war against England, which he did promptly, and immediately 
afterwards prepared to sustain his opinion in the field. 

When, after the successful defence of Fort Stephenson, Governor 
Shelby, with four thousand men, marched to the assistance of Har 
rison. Colonel Johnson commanded a regiment of mounted Ken- 
tuckians. The force of Shelby arrived at head-quarters on the 17th 
of September, 1813, a few days after Perry's victory. The men 
were all in the highest spirits. The despondency of the preceding 
year had passed away, and nothing was expressed but the most 
confident belief in victory. Johnson's mounted regiment comprised 
the whole cavalry of the Kentuckians ; the rest of the force, owing to 
imperative circumstances, acting as infantry. It was partly in con- 
sequence of this that his command played so prominent a part in 
the approaching campaign. 

The victory of Perry had opened a new road for the invasion of 
Canada, and one that ought to have been conquered a year before. 
Instead of having to march through a wilderness, the Americans 
had now only to embark on the lake, and be wafted by favorable 
breezes, in a few hours, to their destination. Accordingly, on the 
27th of September, seventeen days after Perry's victory, the Ameri- 
cans with the exception of Johnson's regiment, which was to proceed 
by land to Detroit, were embarked under convoy of the fleet, and 
before night reached the Canadian shore. The landing was effected 
without resistance, no enemy appearing in sight. Harrison pushed 
rapidly forward to Ahmetsburg, where his troops bivouacked for 
the night. This was the place where, on the preceding winter, the 
prisoners captured at the Raisin had been huddled into a pen, and 
where with tears of rage and despair, they first heard of the inhuman 
massacre of their brothers, relatives and friends who had been left 
wounded on the field of battle. As the recollection of this crowded 
on the Americans, many a bitter vow of revenge was taken. In 
sad memories like these the night was passed. 

But in the morning it became known that Proctor, after dismant- 
ling Maiden, and burning the barracks and navy-yard, and stripping 
the surrounding country of horses and cattle, had begun a precipitate 
yetreat, early on the 26th. In fact, the British General had suddenly 



RICHARD M. JOHNSON. 13.5 

become a prey to terror. Like all who are brutal, he was a coward 
in heart, and shook at the shadow of disaster. His spies had mag- 
nified the number of the Americans to fifteen thousand, and declared 
them to be made up chiefly of Kentuckians sworn to avenge the mur- 
ders at the Raisin. The fear of falling into the hands of his enemies 
completely unnerved him ; and he resolved by a speedy retreat to 
save his pitiful life. In vain his officers pointed out to him that 
there was still a chance of defending his post. In vain it was re- 
presented that the larger portion of his Indian allies would abandon 
him on the first symptoms of a retrogade movement. In vain the 
heroic Tecumseh, who was above deserting even a coward in ex- 
tremity, strove, by bitter taunts, to arrest his purpose. " Father/' 
said the bold chief, "listen to your red children. They are standing 
aU around, ready to fight and die for you. Do not forsake, do not 
alarm them. In the old war your fathers deserted ours. Will you 
do it again ? You invited, encouraged, supplied us with armsj to 
war on the Americans ! Ever since you desired it, we have fought 
at your side ; and when did we turn our backs on the foe ? Listen 
to us now, father. The ships went out to fight on. the lake — ^you 
made them go out. Where are they ? We do not know what 
happened : we heard the great guns. They sounded loud and far, 
and since we have seen you tying up bundles to carry av/ay. You 
told us always you would never run away : that the English never 
do. Will you now run before you have even seen the enemy ?" 
But nothing could allay the panic, or alter the resolution of Proctor. 
He fled, and with such precipitancy, that he did not even stop to 
destroy the bridges behind him. 

When Harrison arrived at Maiden, accordingly, he found that 
place only a smouldering ruin. The embers of the conflagration 
were still smoking; and the neighboring country looked as if just 
lavaged by an invader. The barns were empty, the farms were 
plundered of their stock, and the few miserable inhabitants remain- 
ing bore the sad aspect of famine. At first, Harrison despaired of 
overtaking the fugitives ; and on the 27th he wrote in that strain to 
the Secretary of War. "I will pursue the enemy to-morrow,'^ were 
his words, " but there is no possibility of overtaking him, as he has 
upwards of one thousand horses, and we have not one." But, 
pushing forward to Sandwich, he there met to his inexpressible 
satisfaction, Johnson's mounted regiment of Kentuckians, winding 
along the other bank of the Detroit. During the march of this force 
a circumstance had occurred which greatly inflamed them against 
the enemy. Their way had led them by the scene of the massacre 



136 RICHARD M. JOHNSON. 

at the Raisin, where they found the bones of the victims which had 
been piously interred in the preceding June, brutally exposed. The 
Kentucki-ans paused to consign them once more to the earth. While 
engaged in this sad duty, an express from Harrison reached them, 
urging them to hasten forward. The scene they had just witnessed 
inflamed the Kentuckians to madness. They were more eager than 
ever to overtake the enemy ; and pressing rapidly forward, joined 
Harrison, as we have seen. 

The combined forces now marched in pursuit of Proctor. Never, 
perhaps, had a greater number of gallant men, who were not pro- 
fessional soldiers, left their homes and peaceful associations to avenge 
the blood of their slaughtered relatives. There was Crittenden, and 
Barry, and Wickliffe, names since conspicuous among the highest in 
the councils of the nation. There was Perry, v/ith the wreath of 
victory still green on his brow : Clay, whose services and bravery in 
tho preceding campaign had won him merited renown : Cass, already 
celebrated for that courage and ability, which still, after nearly forty 
years, survive for the benej&t of his country. There, too, was 
Governor Shelby, one of the heroes of the Revolution, who had 
fought at King's Mountain, and who now came, with a head silvered 
by age, to fight in a new and scarcely less holy cause. One common 
sentiment pervaded every bosom. To overtake the enemy, to avenge 
the blood shed at Raisin, was the sole thought of those gallant Ken- 
tuckians ! The pursuit was pushed with the greatest vigor. At 
every step new proofs of Proctor's panic met the eye. Here were 
stores abandoned in bulk, there arms scattered along the highway : 
here despatches left to their fate, there ammunition itself cast away. 
The road grew rougher as the army advanced; there were morasses 
to be threaded and rivers to be crossed ; but unintimidated by any 
obstacle, the Americans pushed resolutely forward, still thirsty for 
vengeance. For three days the pursuit continued. At last, on the 
morning of the 5th of October, the army of Harrison came up with 
Proctor, and immediately preparations for a battle began. 

The victory that followed was won chiefly by the regiment of 
mounted Kentuckians, under Johnson, though to Harrison is due 
the credit, in the capacity of leader, of directing their mode of 
attack. On approaching the enemy, he was found arrayed on a 
na^rrow strip of dry land, having the river Thames on his left, and a 
swamp upon his right. The savages, of whom there were about 
twelve hundred, under Tecumseh, occupied the extreme right on the 
eastern margin of the swamp. The infantry, eight hundred in 
number were posted between the river and swamp, the men drawn 



RICHARD M. JOHNSON. 137 

up, not close together, but at some distance apart, in open order as 
it is called. Harrison had already made arrangements for attacking 
with his infantry, but perceiving this position of the British regulars 
to be favorable for a charge, he sent for Johnson, and asked him 
if he would undertake it. " I have accustomed my men to it from 
the first," was the reply. " Then charge !" said Harrison. Instantly 
galloping to the head of his regiment, Johnson informed the men 
of the duty before them, and the whole vast squadron, more than a 
thousand strong, went thundering over the solid plain. In the 
whole range of modern warfare, perhap?, there is no charge which 
can be compared to this for reckless and romantic courage, for the 
men were armed only with guns, hatchets, and knives, and had no 
sabres, that most necessary of all weapons in a melee. As they 
swept down towards the foe, leaving the infantry of the army naif 
a mile behind, Johnson perceived that the ground on which the 
regulars were drawn up, was too confined for the manoeuvres of 
his whole regiment, and determined to divide his force, leaving to 
one half the attack on the British infantry, while with the other he 
resolved to go and seek the Indians under Tecumseh. In taking 
this bold resolution, in the absence of his commanding officer, he 
assumed the whole responsibility of victory or defeat. Accordingly, 
dividing his force, he consigned to Lieutenant-Colonel James John- 
son, his brother, and second in command, the task of charging the 
regulars, while he himself turned off towards the swamp, to assail 
an enemy even more formidable. 

The detachment under Lieutenant-Colonel James Johnson, 
advanced at a rapid pace, and was soon close upon the foe, who, 
at once, opened a heavy fire. The men came onward, in four columns 
of double files, and at this volley the heads of the column halted. 
"Forward, Kentuckians !" shouted Johnson, at this juncture. 
Ashamed of their momentary hesitation, the men again shook their 
bridles, and with a wild hurrah the solid masses of horsemen galloped on 
the enemy, and in the face of a rapid fire, penetrated his ranks. 
Wheeling rapidly, as soon as the British Une was passed, the Ken- 
tuckians poured in a destructive volley on his rear. The battle, in 
this spot, was over in less time than we have taken to describe it, 
for when the regiment wheeled, it found the enemy crying loudly 
for quarters. This was immediately granted. A force was then 
sent in pursuit of Proctor, who was understood to be further in the 
rear; but that General had already fled, having scarcely waited to 
see the defeat of his soldiers. He left behind him, however, his 
carriage, sword, and papers. His subsequent career furnished a 
merited, though late retribution for his preceding cruelties. Arriv 
XII* IS 



138 RICHARD M. JOHNSON. 

ing at Burlington Heights, he was met hy an angry Governor 
General. He whose cruelty and rapacity had been overlooked in 
victory, now found himself, like many another tool of power, made 
to expiate his faults in consequence of defeat. Publicly disgraced 
for avarice and cowardice. Proctor, from that moment became as 
much an object of scorn, even in his own country, as he had before 
been one of dread in ours. 

The attack of Johnson himself on Tecumseh, was, if possible, 
executed with even more gallantry. Putting his squadron to a rapid 
trot, he charged into the midst of the savages. On their part, the 
Indians met this assault with unflinching bravery. For five or six 
minutes nothing was heard but the sharp ringing death-shot, and the 
shouts of the Kentuckians, answered back by 'the war-whoop of the 
savages, and the crack of their unerring rifles. Making right for the 
spot where the voice and dress of a chief seemed to betoken the 
presence of Tecumseh, Johnson strove to bring him to personal 
combat, and, by his fall, to end the day. As he advanced, the 
melee grew terrific. His men were falhng on all sides around him; 
he was himself wounded in three places. The smoke grew so thick 
as almost to blind the eye. But still the Kentuckians pressed on 
around their leader, and still the Indians, gathering by Tecumseh^ 
answered with shot and yell. The rifle-balls whistled thickly 
past. Yet onward the Americans pressed. At last the dark form 
of Tecumseh, who had all along been animating his troops, fell 
prostrate, and, at the sight, a panic seizing his followers, they fled on 
every side. By whose hand the chief died, has never been satisfac- 
torily ascertained. The credit of the deed, however, has always 
been Johnson's. 

In 1832, Johnson was elected Vice President, and again in 1836. H^. 
died in 1851. 




ISAAC SHELBY 




HE enthusiasm with which the 
volunteers of Kentucky rallied 
to the defence of their country 
in the summer of 1813, is to be 
attributed in a great measure to 
the influence of Isaac Shelby, 
the venerable Governor of that 
state. He joined the army of 
Harrison with four thousand. 
Kentuckians, and fought in per- 
son, at the age of sixty-three,, 
in the battle of the Thames. For 

his valuable services in this campaign, Congress, on the 4th of April, 

1818, voted him a gold medal. 

Shelby was born on the estate of his family, near the North Moun 

139 



140 ISAAC SHELBY. 

lain, in Maryland, on the 11th of December, 1 750. His father, Ge- 
neral Evan Shelby, was a distinguished soldier in the Indian wars, 
and under his command the son served a first campaign against 
the savages on the Scioto river, in 1774. He was in the awful bat- 
tle of Kenhawa, fought during that year. The conflict raged from 
sunrise to sunset; and when the struggle was over, the ground along 
the Ohio was strewed, for nearly half a mile with -the bodies of the 
slain. 

In 1776, Shelby was appointed Captain of a body of minute-men 
in Virginia. He was not, however, called into service, and in 1777, 
he became attached to the commissary department. When, by the ex- 
tension of the boundary line of North Carolina, Shelby's estate be- 
came included in the latter colony, he was appointed a Colonel of 
militia by Governer Caswell. He was absent in Kentucky, laying 
out some lands he had purchased there five years before, when he 
heard of the fall of Charleston, and instantly abandoning his private 
aff"airs, he hurried to offer his sword to his country. Placing himself 
at the head of a body of militia, he took part in several subsequent 
skirmishes between the Americans and British. At last, on the 7th 
of October, 1780, the battle of King's Mountain was fought, in which 
the English leader, Major Ferguson, at the head of his riflemen, was 
beaten, and that, too, in a position from which he had vauntingly 
declared, " God Almighty could not drive him." Shelby was one 
of the commanders in this conflict. By a vote of the North Carolina 
legislature, he and his brother Colonels were presented with elegant 
swords for their behavior in this action. After serving two years 
longer, chiefly under Marion, he retired from the army. 

In 1783, Shelby returned to Kentucky, where he settled at Boons 
borough. He was the first person in that State who took up a pre • 
emption grant for the purpose of cultivation ; and at his death, forty 
three years after, was the only individual residing on his own 
settlement and pre-emption. In 1812, he was elected Governor of 
Kentucky. During the next year he organized a body of four thou- 
send volunteers, and marching with them to the support of Harrison, 
participated in the victory of the Thames. In 1817 he was offered 
the War Department, but declined it in consequence of his age. He 
survived until the 18th of July, 1826, when a stroke of apoplexy 
terminated his useful and glorious life. 

Shelby was brave to a fault. He could endure exposure and fa- 
tigue without flinching. He was remarkable for a sound common 
sense, which rendered his opinion more practically useful than that 
uf more brilliant men. In manners he was courteous. 




OKSXELAJL BROWN AT THK BATTL2 OP CHIPPEWA, 



JACOB BROWN. 



given to 



T was reserved for the middle 
states to be the first to rally the 
drooping spirits of the country, 
in the war of 1812. While New 
England held coldly aloof from 
the contest, and the south as yet 
had scarcely roused herself for 
action, New York and Pennsyl- 
vania, then as now the two 
greatest states of the confedera- 
cy, came gallantly to the rescue. 
It was on the soil of New York, 
and principally by New York 
troops that the first repulse was 
the British. It was a Pennsylvania General that won the 

141 




i42 JACOB BROWN. 

victory. We allude to the defeat of the enemy at Sackett's Harbor 
by a combined force of regulars and militia under General Brown. 

Jacob Brown, a Major-General in the American army, and per- 
haps the ablest commander in the war of 1812, was born in Bucks 
county, Pennsylvania, in the year 1775. His ancestors, for several 
generatons, had been members of the society of Friends. His 
father was originally a farmer, but having embarked in trade, very 
soon lost the whole of his property ; and his progeny, among them 
Jacob, were thrown on the world to seek a subsistence, while still 
children. This happened when the subject of our memoir was but 
sixteen. Having an ordinary English education, he resolved to 
make it useful as a country schoolmaster, and accordingly acted in 
that capacity at Crosswicks, New Jersey, from his eighteenth to his 
twenty-first year. At this period the tide of emigration was just 
beginning to set towards Ohio, and young Brown, eager to improve 
his fortunes, resolved to move out to that territory. He accordingly 
went to Cincinnati, and obtaining employment as a surveyor, 
xemainedtwo years in that vicinity ; but finding the reality of west- 
ern life less alluring than he had been led to expect it, he returned 
to the eastern states. In 1798 he was teaching school in New York. 
He continued at this, however, but a few months. He next turned 
his attention to the law, but finally abandoned this also. He now 
purchased a tract of land in Jefferson county, New York, for he had 
acquired some property in his various pursuits, and, in 1799, he 
removed to his new possession, then a wild clearing in the heart of 
the wilderness. 

The district, however, rapidly improved ; and with the rise of its 
fortuhes rose those of Brown. Here on this exposed border, he 
began to show those qualities of mind, which subsequently raised 
him to the head of the American army, and which would have 
enrolled his name among the most renowned of military command- 
ers, if a wider sphere had been found for their exercise. Bold, saga- 
cious, brave to a fault ; persevering, industrious, full of resources ; 
firm and decided in character ; never shrinking from assuming the 
responsibility of an action which his judgment approved, he was just 
the man to acquire influence among the rough, but shrewd border- 
ers with whom he was now thrown into contact. He soon took the 
lead among his fellow-citizens, and was looked up to upon all occa- 
sions. In 1809 he was appointed to command a regiment of militia, 
and in 1811 elevated to the rank of a Brigadier-General. When 
the war of 1812 broke out, he found himself at the head of a brigade, 
and with the charge of defending two hundred miles of exposed 



JACOB BROWN. 143 

frontier. But this novel and responsible position found him full of 
resources to meet the exigency. On the 4th of October, 1812, at the 
head of four hundred men, he repulsed the British, eight hundred 
strong, in an attack on Ogdensburg. His term of service having 
expired shortly after, he returned home and resumed the plough. 

The administration of Mr. Madison, appreciating his services and 
ability, now endeavored to secure his aid permanently during the 
war; and accordingly offered him a ColonePs commission in the regu- 
lar army. This, however, he declined, not from unwillingness to 
serve, but from a resolution not to take a lower rank than he already 
held. He felt that he was fitted for great emergencies, and was con- 
tent patiently to wait until he should be better appreciated. If that 
never should occur, he was satisfied to remain in his peaceful avoca- 
tion as a farmer. But never was there a truer saying than that talent 
always finds its level, or never was it more forcibly exemplified than 
in the cases of Jackson and Brown. Both were refused the commis- 
sions they sought, in the beginning of the conflict ; yet both subse- 
quently forced them, as it were, from the country, by their genius 
for war. Both were emphatically heroes of the people. Both started 
to life, robust and armed, military commanders full born. Both only 
needed a wider sphere of action to have become among the most cele- 
brated professors of the military art. With the field that opened itself 
before the Marshals of Napoleon, Jackson would have rivalled Ney, 
and Brown surpassed Macdonald. 

The residence of Brown was in the neighborhood of Sackett's Har- 
bor, at that time the chief depot for stores on the lake. Here was 
collected the plunder of York ; here were building the vessels destined 
to annoy the enemy ; and here were stowed the munitions of war 
that had been transported, at great expense, from the Atlantic to the 
shores of Lake Ontario. Though it was scarcely thought probable 
that the British would venture to attack this place, the value of the 
prize rendered it possible that the attempt might be made ; and Colo- 
nel Backus, who had been left in command of the post, was instructed, 
in case of any such expedition, to summon General Brown to his 
assistance. It was not long before the contingency, thus provided 
for, arrived. To retaliate for the capture of York, Prevost conceived 
the design of attacking Sackett's Harbor. This idea was adopted 
during a visit to Kingston, where he heard that General Dearborn 
had withdrawn most of the garrison to assist in the expedition against 
Fort George. Accordingly, on the 27th of May, 1813, Prevost began 
his movement at the head of nearly a thousand men; his troops em- 
barking in small boats, and under convoy of the fleet commanded by Sir 



144 JACOB BROWN. 

James Yeo. It was his intention to reach Sackett's Harbor in the 
night, and at daybreak to assault and carry the place by surprise. 
The winds proved adverse, however, and it was not until ten o'c'ock 
on the -evening of the 28th that he reached his destination. At day- 
break of the 29th he made his attack. Meantime, his fleet had been 
seen on the lake, and notice promptly carried to the harbor. The 
guns of the fort gave the alarm to the surrounding country. The 
people rose. By nc.on of the 28th, six hundred militia had rallied to 
the defence of the place ; and at their head came Brown, summoned 
in this emergency, like Cincinnatus, from his plough. An express had 
found him at his farm, eight miles from the harbor, and instantly mount- 
ing, he had hurried to the scene of action, rousing the militia as he 
came. His every movement marked the man born to command. The 
crisis found him, cool, ready, inexhaustible. It was one of those emer- 
gencies in which a bold and intrepid genius like his, finds its true ele- 
ment, while minds of less power sink under the responsibility. 

During the whole of the 28th the Americans were preparing for 
the attack. Brown, being thoroughly acquainted with the neighbor- 
hood, was at no loss to know the point where the enemy would proba- 
bly land. His dispositions were made accordingly. He placed the mili- 
tia and volunteers in the first line, and assigned to them the task of 
meeting the enemy on his disembarkation. Midway between the 
shore and village, and on ground rendered difficult of approach by an 
abattis, he arranged the second line, which was composed of regular 
troops, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Backus. A few 
artillerists were charged with the custody of the forts, where, in case 
of a defeat. Brown had prepared to make a last desperate stand. 
The location of the front line was partially altered, almost at the mo- 
ment of attack, in consequence of the enemy changing the point of 
his disembarkation, when he saw the stubborn preparations of the 
Americans. The troops, however, had full time to take their new 
position before the enemy could land. Brown himself superintended 
their line of battle. " Hide yourselves,'^ he said, " as much as possi- 
ble, and do not fire until you can see the buttons of the enemy. If you 
are forced to retire, by superior numbers, throw yourselves into the 
wood, rally, and assail the foe in flank. If you cannot then stop him, 
retire on the left and rear of Colonel Backus, and wait for further 
orders. Only be cool and resolute and the day is our own." 

He had scarcely delivered these words when the British were seen 
close at hand, their numerous boats apparently crowded with sol 
diers. The day was partially clear, with a slight mist hanging 
around ; and the glitter of the enemy's arms, perhaps, magnified his 



JACOB BROWN. 145 

numbers. None of the militia or volunteers had been in battle be- 
lore ; and awe of the British regulars' skill haunted the popular 
mind ; hence, when the front line of the Americans beheld the im- 
posing array of the enemy, it lost its self-possession, and began to 
fire too soon, and in a desultory manner. At such a crisis it is 
astonishing how few can infect the whole mass. One or two at first 
discharged their pieces, and this spread alarm in others, so that, in 
less than a minute, the whole line had delivered its fire. As might 
have been expected, the men overshot their assailants, and scarcely 
one of the enemy was seen to fall. The inefficiency of their fire 
increased the perturbation of the volunteers ; each looked for coun- 
tenance in his neighbor and found none ; a panic was the conse- 
quence ; and the whole body, breaking ground, took to flight igno- 
miniously. In vain their officers strove to rally them. Once thorough- 
ly frightened, nothing could allay their terror. Forgetful of Brown's 
orders to collect again in the wood, forgetful of the direction after- 
wards to gather in the rear of Colonel Backus, forgetful of everything 
but their own alarm, they hurried frantically onward, some even 
throwing away their guns, a mortifying and cowardly spectacle 
Two companies, however, resisted this general consternation. They 
were headed by Captains M'Nett and Collins, and gallantly rallied 
to the fight. 

With inexplicable ch'agrin. Brown saw the flight of the militia and 
volunteers ; but his second line still stood firm, and to this he now 
devoted all his attention. By the disgraceful retreat of the front 
line, the position of the regulars, however, was rendered untenable. 
But this did not disconcert Brown. FaUing back, step by step, dis- 
puting every inch of ground, he took shelter in some log huts which 
had been prepared for the winter accommodation of the soldiers, and 
here prepared to resist the now overpowering numbers of the enemy. 
This new post he soon rendered impregnable. In vain the British, 
flushed with their first victory, advanced with loud cheers to the 
assault. A sharp and well aimed volley checked their steps. Brown 
did not give them time to recover, before he threw in another vol- 
ley. At this moment, however, flames were seen rising from the 
place where the stores were collected ; for the officer left in their 
charge, seeing the flight of the front line, had deemed the day lost, 
and hastened to execute his orders. Soon dark volumes of pitchy 
smoke began to roll upwards to the sky, relieved here and there by 
forky tongues of flame, leaping about in the wildest confusion. Ani- 
mated by this sight, the British raised a second shout, and rushed 
foiward, under cover of a heavy fire. But the American regulars, 
xm 19 



146 JACOB BROWN. 

with the heroic Backus at their head, stood immoveable. For a fevr 
minutes only the result was doubtful. The voUies of the enemy 
rattled without intermission, and the scanty front of the Americans 
was enveloped in sheets of fire. Soon the British began to waver. 
At this moment Backus, while cheering on his men, received a 
mortal shot, and fell in the arms of victory. Brown, meantime, 
had hastened to the rear, and succeeded in rallying three or four 
nundred of the militia, with whom he advanced to cut off the 
enemy's rear. But the British, alarmed at this demonstration, now 
began to retire on all sides. Indeed, to have remained longer, a 
mark for the deadly fire from the block-house and battery, would 
have been madness, even if their retreat had not been threatened. 
Accordingly, Prevost drew off" his men, and forming them on the 
east of the hill proceeded immediately after to re-embark. As they hur- 
ried to their boats, mortified and enraged at this unexpected result, 
their sight was cheered by a spectacle, which, in part afforded a 
grim satisfaction for their disgrace. It was the burning barracks 
and store-houses. These buildings were now a sheet of flame, and 
being filled with highly combustible materials, the roar of the con- 
flagration was heard far and near. By that stern music the enemy 
re-embarked. 

The intelligence of this victory was hailed with rapturous 
applause throughout the Union, and by universal consent Brown 
rose at once to a first place in the pubhc opinion. The government 
showed its grateful appreciation of his conduct by creating him a 
Brigadier. Both friend and foe acknowledged, as if by secret instinct, 
that a military leader of ability had arisen at last in this country. 
An opinion which heretofore had been breathed only in whis- 
pers, was now boldly proclaimed : it was said that the incom- 
petency of the old Generals had been endured long enough, 
and that it was full time that abler commanders, fresh from 
the people, should have their places. From this period, indeed, we 
may date an improvement in the character of the leaders, and a 
more daring spirit of enterprise in the management of the war. 
The days of the Hulls, Wilkinsons, and Dearborns, were nearly 
over ; that of the -Browns, Scotts, Jessups, and Jacksons, was 
approaching. The spirit of the people which had begun to despond, 
from this hour rallied ; enthusiasm took the place of want of confi 
dence ; and headed by leaders whom it could love, the army weni 
gallantly from victory to victory. Chippewa and Lundy's Lane 
followed upon Sackett's Harbor, and the brilliant spectacle closed at 
New Orleans in a' blaze of glory ! 

The letter in which Brown modestly announced his victory, is 



JACOB BROWN. 147 

worthy of being preserved : it is terse, unaffected, and eminently 
characteristic of the man. There is nothing of exaggeration, notliing 
of bombast about it. In reading it, we perceive that victory has not 
destroyed the even balance of his mind. 

"May 29th, 1813. 
We were attacked at the dawn of this day by a British regular 
force of at least nine hundred men, most probably twelve hundred. 
They made their landing at Horse Island. The enemy's fleet con- 
sisted of two ships and four schooners, and thirty large open boats 
We are completely victorious. The enemy lost a considerable num- 
ber of killed and wounded on the field, among the number several 
officers of distinction. After having re-embarked, they sent me a 
flag, desiring to have their killed and wounded attended to. I have 
made them satisfied on that subject. Americans will be distinguished 
for humanity and bravery. Our loss is not numerous, but serious 
from the great worth of those who have fallen. Colonel Mills was 
shot dead at the commencement of the action ; and Colonel Backus, 
of the first regiment of light dragoons, nobly fell at the head of 
his regiment as victory was declaring for us. I will not presume to 
praise this regiment ; their gallant conduct on this day merits much 
more than praise. The new ship, and Commodore Chauncey's 
prize, the Duke of Gloucester, are safe in Sackett's Harbor. Sir 
George Prevost landed and commanded in person. Sir James Yeo 
commanded the enemy's fleet. 

In haste, yours, &c., 

Jacob Brown." 

On receiving a commission in the regular army. Brown at once 
abandoned his farm, and devoted himself to the service of his coun- 
try. He accompanied Wilkinson, in the ensuing autumn, in his 
expedition down the St. Lawrence. Being the ofiicer of the day 
during the passage of the British fort at Prescott, the direction of 
that difficult and somewhat perilous enterprise devolved on himself, 
a task which he performed with signal skill and resolution. At 
French Creek he repulsed, with his brigade, an imposing force of 
the enemy. He moved continually in advance of the main army 
and was already several miles ahead of Wilkinson, pressing on to 
Montreal, when he received, with undisguised chagrin, the order of 
that officer to fall back, since the expedition was to be abandoned. 
The army now retired to winter quarters. Wilkinson, on the plea 
of sickness, left the camp, and the other seniors of Brown being also 
absent, he now found himself at the head of the army. Early in 
the year 1814, he was promoted to the rank of Major-General. 



148 



JACOB BROWN. 



The new campaign accordingly opened under the happiest aus- 
pices. The elevation of Brown to the chief command at once inspired 
confidence. His gallantry at Sackett's Harbor, and his corn-age 
under Wilkinson, were the theme of every tongue. His officers 
were in the highest spirits, and the men rehed on victory. Mean- 
time, he left no preparatory measures untried which could assist in 
securing success, particularly devoting himself to the- thorough disci- 
pline of his troops. In this task he found a valuable assistant in 
Scott, then just elevated to the rank of a Brigadier. That officer 
established a camp of instruction at Buffalo, where, adopting the 




system of Napoleon's army, the officers were first rigorously drilled, 
without regard to rank, by the commanding General ; and then 
these officers in turn, instructed the rank and file under their immedi- 
ate eye. It was in fact renewing the scenes of Valley Forge, when 
Baron Steuben first made soldiers of the raw levies of Washington, 
and with the same effect. The one trained the men, who, a few 
months later, drove the British grenadiers at Monmouth ; the other 
instructed the future conquerors of Chippewa and Lundy's Lane. 

Having become satisfied with the proficiency of his troops, Brown 
resolved to cross the Niagara, and begin the aggressive. Accord- 
ingly, on the 3d of July, 1813, the brigade of Scott was sent over to 
the British shore, below Fort Erie, and was followed, on the same 



JACOB BROWN. 14.9 

day by that of Ripley, which landed below. Fort Erie, beinp thus 
invested, surrendered without firing a shot. Leaving a small garri- 
son in the captured fort. Brown now pushed forward in the direc 
tion of Chippewa, where the main body of the British was known 
to be encamped. The enemy's force was commanded by Majoi 
General Riall, and was estimated at three thousand. The brigade 
of Scott moved in advance of the rest of the American army, with 
orders to drive in any outlying parties of the British it should meet. 
The day was that glorious one in the history of our country, the 
fourth of July. As the troops marched, the national air greeted 
their ears at frequently recurring intervals, amid prouder bursts of 
music ; while the soft summer breeze that floated by, dallied with 
the flag of America, making the stars dance and quiver in the morn 
ing sunbeams. Every man felt inspirited by the scene, by the 
music, and by the associations ; and with quickened steps marched 
on. It was not long before a detachment of the British army, con- 
sisting of the one-hundredth regiment, came in sight. This body 
was commanded by the Marquis of Tweedale. A sharp action im- 
mediately ensued, which continued for some hours, being maintained 
as a running fight, the Americans advancing, and the English falling 
back. At last, after a retreat of sixteen miles, the enemy reached 
the Chippewa river, across which he hastily retired. Dusk wa.*. 
now gathering around the landscape. On the opposite shore 
however, could be discerned through the gloom the dark masses of 
RialFs army, protected by heavy batte ries, in the midst of which the one 
hundredth regiment had taken refuge. To have maintained the 
pursuit at that hour, and under the circumstances, would have been 
madness. Accordingly, halting his troops, Scott resolved to await 
the arrival of the main body, and his men, in consequence, pitched 
their camp about two miles from that of the enemy. So close were 
the two armies, and so calm and still was the night, that as 
the hours wore on, the troops in either army could distinguish the 
various noises of the eneni^'- ; and many a brave soldier, as he 
bivouacked on the bare ground, heard these sounds in dreams, 
where mingling with thoughts of home, they produced a strange 
medley of sad and sweet images. 

The morning dawned close and sultry. Not a cloud obscured the 
sky, and scarcely a breath of wind stirred, ominous signs these of a 
hot and dusty day for the battle that impended. The British lay 
behind the Chippewa, commanding a bridge that led across the 
stream and debouched into a comparatively open plain. This plain, 
at its opposite extremity, was bounded by another small stream, 

Xlll* 



150 JACOB BROWN. 

called Street's Creek, behind which the American army had taken 
up its position the night before. On its two other sides this plain 
was skirted by the Niagara River, and by a belt of heavy woodland. 
Nature appeared, indeed, to have constructed the piece of ground 
expressly for a field of battle, and both commanders, sensible of 
this, seemed to have made up their minds here to try their fortunes. 
Brown was already preparing to leave his position, cross into the 
plain, and attack the enemy in his lines at Chippewa, when the 
videttes announced that Riall was beginning to appear in force on 
the plain himself, as if eager to seek the proffered contest. This 
news was soon followed by the sound of firing, showing that the 
advanced posts of the two armies had begun to skirmish. The wood 
which we have mentioned, and which was on the American left, 
now began to swarm with the militia and Indians of the enemy, 
which, gaining ground as the day advanced, by noon were able 
materially to annoy the American pickets. Brown, on this, 
despatched General Porter with the volunteers and militia, by a 
circuitous route, to get in the rear of the Indians, and cut them off 
from the main body. At the same time he ordered his advance to 
fall back, in hopes thus to draw them on. In about half an hour, 
however. Porter came suddenly upon the light parties of the enemy 
in the wood. A heavy fire succeeded from each of the opposing 
detachments, and was maintained for some time, when the British 
irregulars gave way, and began to retire on Chippewa. The retreat^ 
however, had not progressed far, when it was checked by the 
arrival of the main body of the enemy on the field. The British 
irregulars now rallied, and with exulting cheers, deeming the day 
their own, bore down on the American Hne. For a moment the 
latter withstood the shock, but soon intimidated by the imposing 
front of the enemy's regulars, which now extended far and near 
they broke .and fled. Every effort of General Porter to check theii 
dismay, was in vain. 

Brown himself had been in the wood with Porter, when the noise 
of firing in the direction of Chippewa attracted his attention, and 
immediately he knew by the clouds of dust rising in the distance, 
that the enemy was advancing. It was now four o'clock. The sun, 
declining in the western firmament, threw a yellow haze across the 
plain ; and a myriad of particles, seemingly of fine gold dust, formed a 
canopy over the British army. * Occasionally, a light breeze, drifting 
aside this veil, disclosed the flashing arms, the blackened banners 
and the confident step of Riall's veterans : for the regulars of that 
General were no common troops, but men disciplined on many a 



JACOB BROWN. 151 

nard fought field, and proud of their frequent victories. Now and 
then a puflf of white smoke, looking in the distance as if from a 
solitary guu, would shoot out from this gilded curtain, and immedi- 
ately afterwards, a faint report came struggling up to the ear. 
Perhaps never did any General gaze on a more splendid spectacle. 
But not a moment was to be lost, and so, putting spurs to his horse, 
Brown galloped, with his suite, in the direction of the bridge, 
which, crossing Street's Creek, in front of the American camp, was 
the only outlet for our army into the plain beyond. Just before he 
reached that spot, he met General Scott, who, in ignorance of the 
advance of the British, was moving his brigade in that direction, in 
relief dress, merely for the purpose of a drill. Brown drew in his 
rein, and pointing with his sword across to the plain, said to his 
subordinate : " The enemy is coming up — you will have a fight — 
move on, and cross the bridge/' Having pronounced these words, 
he passed hastily to the rear, to put Ripley's brigade in motion, and 
to re-assemble the light troops behind Street's Creek. 

In an instant every man in the brigade of Scott was aware of 
the order, and with an alacrity that showed they had not forgotten 
the triumph of the day before, they moved towards the bridge. It 
was not until he reached this spot that Scott could obtain a sight of 
the foe. He then saw the British veterans, however, displayed on 
the plain, their masses of infantry intermixed with dragoons and 
artillery, extending far away to right and left, without a perceptible 
gap in the whole of that long front. A battery of nine pieces, 
within point blank, opened its fire on the bridge as soon as the 
Americans appeared. Scott did not hesitate a moment, however, 
but immediately crossed, and in perfect order, though not without 
loss. As soon as the first and second battalions, led by Majors 
Leavenworth and McNeilly, had reached the plain, they promptly 
formed a line in front, which brought them opposite, respectively, to 
the left and centre of the enemy. When the third battalion, which 
was commanded by Major Jessup, had traversed the bridge, Scott 
moved it off obhquely to the left, in order to prevent the British 
from outflanking him in that direction. This left the spaces between 
the battalions of considerable size ; but no other resource remained. 
The artillery under Captain Towson, was stationed to the right, 
resting on the Chippewa road. No sooner had it got into position, 
than the guns were promptly unlimbered, and soon opened with 
terrible eff'ect on the columns of the enemy. Meantime, the two 
armies continued to advance on each other, the troops halting to fire, 
and then pushing on, until the space between became packed with 



152 JACOB BROWN. 

smoke. The English officers had been told that Scott had nothing 
but militia with him ; but when they saw the coolness with which 
his troops came into action, one of them exclaimed : " If these are 
militia, God keep the regulars from us !" 

The right of the British had been pushed so far, in the hope of 
outilanking the Americans, that it had actually entered the forest, 
and thither Major Jessup following it, according to his orders not to 
be outflanked, it became finally separated from the main body. This 
gave the British a new right flank on the plain, threatening to effect 
the very purpose that Jessup had been sent to defeat. Scott, per- 
ceiving this, hastened to throw forward the left flank of 'Neil's 
battaUon, which brought it obliquely to the enemy's front, and, in 
turn, outflanked him a lit;le. All this time the two armies had con- 
tinued to approach each other, keeping up a constant and heavy 
fire. Scott, just before, noticing that Towson overshot the enemy, 
galloped down the line to the battery, and seeing its gallant com- 
mander so enveloped in smoke, that neither he nor his men 
could see the British any longer, had pointed them out. 
Instantly changing the direction of his pieces, Towson pre- 
pared to load them for a final discharge, while Scott returned 
back to the battalions on the right, where he executed the move- 
ment by which he outflanked the foe. At this crisis, the enemy 
was not more than eighty paces distant. It was the moment for 
decisive action. To have waited an instant, would have given 
Riall the opportunity, perhaps, to extend his flank, and recover the 
advantage he had just lost. But this instant Scott did not allow him. 
Turning to M'Neil's battalion, he pointed with his sword towards 
the enemy, and in a voice that rose, loud and distinct over all the 
uproar of the strife, shouted : " Men of the eleventh ! the enemy say 
we are good at a long shot, but cannot stand the cold iron. I call on 
you to give the lie to that slander. Charge !" At the word, the 
bayonets of that veteran battalion were levelled, and they rushed 
upon the foe, a bristling wall of steel. Instantaneously, too, Leaven- 
worth's battalion, which held an oblique position on the enemy's 
liglit, sprang also to the charge, and thus crushed, as it were, 
betw(;en two moving phalanxes, the British, with a wild cry of horror 
broke and fled. The final impulse to their panic, if any had been 
wanting, was given by the fire of Towson's pieces, which, at this 
critical moment, sent their tempest of grape through and through the 
enemy's ranks. Almost simultaneously too, Major Jessup, in the 
wood, Ldd advanced his men to a new and more secure position, 
where their fire proved so hot and quick, that the foe there were 
forced to retire also. 



JACOB BROWN. 153 

While the brigade of Scott had been achieving this victory, that 
uf Ripley had not been inactive. Brown had no sooner left Scott than 
he placed himself at the head of these battalions, and advanced with 
them on the left, behind the woods, hoping to gain the rear of the 
enemy's right flank. But by the almost instantaneous success of 
Scott, the foe was in full retreat before this could be effected. The 
whole of the American army, now uniting, however, advanced 
with loud cheers, the bands playing in triumph. It is said to have 
been a magnificent spectacle. The sun hung on the very verge of 
the horizon, and the dust that floated over the plain was more 
golden than ever, while here and there were particles of smoke that 
lit by a stray beam, gleamed out like frosted silver on the scene. As 
the victors pressed on across the plain, they found it everywhere 
strewed with the dead and dying, proving how destructive had been 
their fire. As soon as the British gained the sloping ground descend- 
ing towards Chippewa, they broke and ran to their trenches- 
The pursuit was not stopped until the enemy had thrown him- 
self across the Chippewa, and found a secure covert within his 
entrenchments. By this time Brown had arrived in person, and 
ordered the ordnance to be brought up, intending to force the works, 
but their strength, and the lateness of the hour, induced him to 
abandon the attempt. The sun had now gone down. One by one 
the stars appeared in the sky, but notwithstanding this, the darkness 
increased ; for the clouds of dust settling but slowly, still hung over 
the plain, and added to the gloom of the hour. All things seemed 
gradually to assume a look and voice of foreboding. The wind was 
heard wailing in the recesses of the neighboring forest ; the Niagara 
surged mournfully along ; and from the plain rose up alow, confused, 
but melancholy murmur, for there, nearly a thousand men lay, moan- 
ing in suftering, or looking up with dead, pale faces, to the stars ! 
As the night deepened, however, that ominous mingling of sounds 
grew fainter and fainter, as soul after soul went up to its Maker. 
Humane steps at last were heard on that plain, and the wounded 
were borne oJff and succored. Finally a death-like silence fell on ail 
the landscape. The two armies, in their respective camps, slept 
m deep slumber after the fatigues of the day, and no sound broke 
the profound stillness, except the occasional cry of a sentry, or the 
hoarse murmur of the Niagara. 

The second day after this battle, the Americans crossed the Chip- 
pewa, the British burning their barracks, abandoning their position, 
and retiring to forts Niagara and George. Brown followed in 
pursuit. The expectation of receiving some heavy guns from 

20 



154 JACOB BROWN. 

Sackett's Harbor, delayed his movements for the next fortnight ; but, 
on the 25th of July, having received an express from General Gaines, 
advising him of the blockade of that port, by a superior force, he was 
compelled to abandon his designs against the forts at the mouth of 
the Niagara, and seek success in some other enterprise. His active 
mind Avas not long in fixing on its prey. He determined to dis- 
encumber the army of baggage, and march directly on Burlington 
Heights. But in order to conceal this intention from the enemy, as 
well as to obtain a supply of provisions from Schlosser, he fell back 
on Chippewa. Meantime, however, Lieutenant-General Drum- 
mond, mortified at the repulse of the British by an inferior force, 
had hurried up from York, bringing with him all the troops he could 
collect at that and other posts on the peninsula. Assuming command 
of the army in person, he advanced boldly against the Americans. 
This was' just at the period when they -were falUng back on Chip- 
pewa. Brown, being advised of the movement of Drummond, 
halted. That same evening he received a communication from the 
<^merican shore, apprizing him that the enemy had landed a 



FOBT mAGARA. 



thousand men at Lewistown, nine miles below the Chippewa, for 
some object not imderstood. Alarmed for the stores at Schlobser, 
Brown determined, by threatening the forts at the mouth of the 



JACOB BROWN. 155 

Niagara, to recall the British. Accordingly, he ordered Scott, with 
all the troops he could collect on the moment, to advance. In twenty 
minutes, Scott was in motion. He carried with him his own brigade, 
Towson's artillery, and the dragoons and mounted men, in all about 
thirteen hundred combatants. 

The battle that ensued, is known by the names of Queenstown, 
Lundy's Lane, and Niagara, indiscriminately. It was in fact, two 
separate conflicts. In the first, the enemy was driven from his posi- 
tion, and then, taking up a new one, the struggle began again, and 
was continued until midnight. In the earlier conflict, Scott's 
brigade fought nearly alone, and was terribly cut up. In fact, this 
General, when he went into action, supposed that he was about to 
meet the same force he had already met at Chippewa, and no more, 
whereas it had been strongly reinforced by Drummond. Scott stood 
his ground, however, until Brown could bring up the brigade of 
Ripley, when his shattered troops were drawn off*, though, later in 
the night, they came again into action. The enemy was finally 
beaten. Before the victory, however, was complete, Brown had 
received two wounds, and was so reduced by loss of blood, that he 
had to be supported on his horse from the field. Scott having been 
also wounded, the command devolved on General Ripley. This 
General had been ordered by Brown to begin the action again early 
in the morning, but failed to do so, in consequence of which the 
English remained masters of the field, and a retreat to Fort Erie 
became necessary. It was his conduct in this emergency which 
induced Brown to pronounce Ripley an ofiicer, not wanting indeed in 
physical bravery, but sadly deficient in moral courage, or the nerve 
to assume responsibility in critical circumstances. 

Not possessing confidence in Ripley, one of the first acts of Brown 
was to send for General Gaines, who, as senior ofiicer, on his arrival, 
would supersede Ripley in the command of Fort Erie. Here Gaines 
won unfading laurels by his gallant repulse of the enemy from before its 
walls. But having received a wound from a shell, the fort again 
fell in the charge of Ripley, and the anxiety of Brown became so 
great, that early in September, as soon as his wounds were suffi- 
ciently healed, he repaired in person to Fort Erie, and assumed the 
direction of its defence. He found the place in a critical emergency. 
The besieging force was more than douMe that of the garrison, and 
was continually increasing. Although reinforcements had been 
ordered up from Lake Champlain, they were yet far distant, and 
some time must necessarily elapse before they could appear. Mean- 
time the fort might be stormed successfully by overwhelming. 



156 



JACOB BROVVH. 



numbers. In this perilous condition of affairs, the bold and decided 
genius of Brown was the salvation of the garrison. After waiting 
from the 2d until the 17th of September, daily suffering more and 
more from the fire of the enemy, the American General, noticing 
that a new battery was about to be erected, resolved on a sortie. 
The works of the besiegers consisted of two lines of investment, 
supported by block -houses, in the front of which, at suitable points, 
batteries were erected. The camp of the enemy was nearly two 
miles in the rear of their works. Brown noticed that a brigade of 
twelve or fifteen hundred men usually occupied these works, and 
was relieved, in turn,by two other brigades of equal strength. Brown's 
plan was to issue forth suddenly with as powerful a force as he 
could muster, storm the batteries, spike the cannon, and, if possible, 
cut to pieces the brigade on duty, before assistance could be sum- 
moned from the camp. The scheme was hazardous perhaps, but 
with such a General to lead the troops, at least promised success. 

Accordingly, on the morning of the 17th, the garrison was ordered 
to parade at noon, in readiness for the sortie. The volunteers, led 
by General Porter, the riflemen of Colonel Gibson, and Major 
Brooks, with the first and twenty-third infantry, accompanied by a 
few dragoons, acting as infantry, were instructed to move from the 
extreme left on the right of the enemy, by a road which had been 
secretly opened through the woods for the purpose. The command 
of General Miller was ordered to station itself in the ravine between 
the enemy's batteries and Fort Erie, by passing in detachments 
through the skirts of the wood. The twenty -first infantry, under 
General Ripley, was directed to post itself, as a reserve, between 
the new bastions of Fort Erie. All these troops, by these arrangements, 
would be kept under cover, and out of view of the enemy, until the 
moment for decisive action. Then, all at once, they would burst on 
the foe. 

When the signal was given, the troops rushed forward from their 
respective stations with the greatest impetuosity. The left column, 
led by General Porter, began the action. These brave men had 
stolen forward through the wood on the enemy's right, until they 
arrived, unperceived, close to his entrenchments : then, at the word 
of their commander, they raised a shout, and advanced at quick 
step upon the foe. Hearing the report of the musketry, Brown, who 
had remained in the ravine, knew that the action was begun on the 
left, and accordingly ordered Miller to advance and pierce the 
enemy's entrenchments between the two batteries in front. This 
division also sprang to the assault with cheers. The astonished 



JACOB BROWN. 157 

enemy, at first, lost his self-possession, but soon recovering himself, 
rallied to the defence of his battery. A deadly fire accordingly 
greeted the Americans. But unintimidated, the gallant assailants 
rushed forward, cleared the ramparts, drove the enemy from his 
works, and planted their flag on the embrasure of the captured forti- 
fication. In less than thirty minutes after firing the first gun, the 
Americans were masters of the field, two of the enemy's batteries, 
his line of entrenchments, and his two block-houses being in pos- 
session of the storming parties. The victors then hastened to spike 
the cannon. The magazine of the batteries was blown up. The 
enemy still, however, maintained a desultory, though stubborn 
resistance, as he retreated ; and the reserve, which had been ordered 
up, was brought into action, while a portion of the remaining troops 
proceeded with the work of demolition. The object of the sortie 
having been accomplished, the Americans were now drawn ofi", and 
retired to the fort. The victory had been signal and complete. In a 
single hour the labor of fifty days on the part of the besiegers had 
been utterly destroyed. About four hundred British had been taken 
prisoners, and as many more wounded or killed. The moral effect 
of the sortie was even greater. The enemy recognized in this bold 
and brilliant stroke, the hand that had dealt him such terrible blows at 
Chippewa and Lundy's Lane, and from that hour, abandoning all 
hopes of reducing the place, lent his thoughts only to the best 
means of effecting a safe retreat. A few days after, he raised the 
siege, and retired behind the Chippewa. 

These series of successes on the part of Brown, beginning with 
Sackett's Harbor, and ending with Fort Erie, surrounded his name 
with an eclat similar to that which, about the same time, was won 
by Decatur on another element. Indeed, the career of this General 
is a fi)rcible illustration of what genius alone can do. During the 
two preceding years of the war, our arms on land had met with an 
almost constant succession of disasters, though, at that time, they 
were not opposed by any of the veteran English troops, such as in 
1814, appeared in the field. But when the peace in Europe had disen- 
gaged the conquerors of the peninsula, our troops, instead of being 
utterly annihilated before these renowned soldiers, suddenly began to 
achieve victories, and that too, against superior numbers. The 
nation could scarcely believe the first reports of the victory of Chip- 
pewa. It had been supposed that if Brown could manage to engage 
a smaller force than his own, his ability and courage would, perhaps, 
obtain a triumph ; but this astonishing success transcended every 
hope. The result was chiefly owing to the genius of the General. 

XIV 



1^56 



JAfeOB BROWN. 



His sa2facity in adapting his means to his end, was well known to the 
troops, and inspired them with a confidence that whatsoever he 
undertook he could carry through; besides, by a thorough dis- 
cipline of his men, he rendered them the equals of Wellington's 
veterans. With such soldiers, and such a leader, victory was 
certain. 

The war terminated, at least in the north, with the campaign of 
1S14. After the peace. Brown was continued in the army, and 
assigned the command of the northern military division. His life, how- 
ever, was paid a forfeit to his services, for he had contracted a disease at 
Fort Erie, which was an almost constant source of suffering to him^ 
and which, in the end, produced his death. But he lived first to 
reach the elevated post of senior Major-General, and Commander- 
in-chief of the army of the United States. This happened in 1821. 
un the 24th of February, 1828, he died in Washington City, where he 
had resided since he rose to the chief command. 





ELEAZER W. RIPLEY. 




HE real hero of Lundy's Lane was 
General Winfield Scott. But that 
officer having been wounded, was 
forced to retire from the field, and 
General Brown, the Commander-in- 
chief, being also disabled, the direc- 
tion of affairs devolved upon General 
Ripley. This gentleman was a leader 
of spirit and discipline, but not equal 
in ability to either of his superiors. 
He wanted th^ir resolution, though 
not their courage, and, perhaps, 
shrank from assuming responsibility 
in critical and uncommon emergen- 
cies. Among the earlier Generals of the war, he would have shone 

159 



160 ELEAZER W. RIPLEY. 

superior. But it required pre-eminent qualifications to win distinc 
tion by the side of Brown and Scott. 

Eleazer Wheelock Ripley, was born in Hanover, New Hampshire, 
in the year 1782. On his maternal side, he was descended from the 
celebrated Captain Miles Standish, the hero of the early Plymouth 
settlers. Young Ripley received an excellent education, graduating 
at Dartmouth College, in his eighteenth year, with the highest 
honors. He subsequently studied law, and settled at Winslow, 
in Massachusetts. In 1807, we find him a member of the legisla 
ture of Massachusetts. He was already promineat as a man of 
influence, and gave his voice, as early as 1808, m favor of a war 
with both England and France, provided those two powers did not 
cease their aggressions on this country. In 1811, he was elected 
to succeed the late Hon. Joseph Story, as speaker of the House of 
Representatives in Massachusetts. In 1812, he came out boldly for 
a war with Great Britain, and this too, in opposition to the general 
sentiment in his adopted state. His patriotism was rewarded by 
the commission of a Lieutenant-Colonel in the army of the United 
States. He was appointed to the command of a sub-district, extend- 
ing from Saco to the eastern frontier, and to his other duties was 
soon added the superintendence of the recruiting service. In a short 
time he had obtained sufficient recruits to form a regiment, which 
was called the twenty-first, and placed under his command. 

Ripley was one of the first officers to introduce that exact and 
rigid discipline into our armies, which subsequently rendered the 
American soldiers a match for the veterans of Wellington. The 
winter of 1812, Ripley spent at Burlington, Vermont, engaged in 
perfecting his regiment, which now became a model for all others. 
In March, 1813, he repaired to Sackett's Harbor, where the army 
was collecting for the attack on York. Ripley shared in that enter- 
prise, and received a wound from the explosion. He was present 
also at the capture of Fort George. In July, he returned to Sackett's 
Harbor, where he was occupied until October, in perfecting the dis- 
cipline of the large body of recruits collecting at that depot. He took 
part in the descent of the St. Lawrence, in JNovember of that year, 
and afterwards, retiring to Sackett's Harbor, remained in winter 
quarters there until the spring of 1814. On the 15th of April of that 
year. Colonel Ripley was created a Brigadier-General, and joined 
the army of Brown, about to begin the glorious campaign of that 
season, on the Niagara. He was present with his command, at the 
battle of Chippewa, on the 5th of July. Subsequently, on the 24tb 
of the same month, he played a prominent part in the battle oi 



l;tl 



ELEAZER W. RIPLET. IM: 

Lundy's Lane, certainly the most hotly contested, if not the most 
splendid action of the war. 

On the afternoon of that day, Brown received a note from a trust- 
worthy source, informing him that the British had thrown a thou- 
sand men across from Queenstown to Lewistown, nine miles below 
Chippewa. The American General, conjecturing that the enemy's 
object was to capture our stores at Schlosser, and intercept supplies 
coming down from Buffalo, immediately determined to recall him 
from this design, by threatening his forts at the mouth of the Niagara. 
Accordingly, Scott's brigade was detached with this purpose. Scott had 
proceeded about two miles in the direction of the forts, when, 
from a hill, he discerned some British officers near a mansion about a 
mile distant. Advancing, he learned that the enemy was in some 
force on the other side of a wood ahead. The command of this 
spirited young officer consisted of thirteen hundred men ; but, as he 
believed that half of Riall's brigade had been thrown across the 
Niagara, he did not hesitate to push on. " We whipped them at 
Chippewa," he said to his soldiers, " and we can do it again, my 
lads !" Having hurried off a messenger to Brown, announcing the 
vicinity of the foe, he prepared to pass the woods, in front of 
Forsyth's house, the mansion where the officers had been seen just 
before. What was his astonishment, however, to perceive directly 
in his front, drawn up in Lundy's Lane, a force, which his practised 
eye knew to be superior to that he had encountered at Chippewa. 
As he wheeled in their front, the clatter of musketry, and the roar 
of artillery, simultaneously crashed upon his ears, and, for a moment, 
(lis men recoiled before the fire with which they v/ere thus unexpec- 
tedly greeted. 

The crisis was one to try the courage of the boldest. The enemy 
were evidently in very strong force, and admirably posted. Scott, 
in reality, was in a trap. To have retreated, under the circum- 
stances, would have been the course of an ordinary leader; but this 
gallant young commander was too spirited for this, and besides, he 
knew that to fall back, would create a panic in the reserve, then 
coming up, and which had never yet flushed itself in battle. His 
determination was instantaneous and heroic. " We will all die here," 
he said, " but never yield an inch." And, ordering the troops to 
deploy into line, at a distance of but one hundred and fifty paces 
from the foe, the sanguinary struggle began. The sun was only 
half an hour high, and already the western sky was tipped with purple 
tints. Soon the thick smoke that rolled upwards from the field, 
darkened the prospect. Near by was that eternal cataract, which, 
XIV* 21 



162 ELEAZER W. RIPLEr. 

pouring the waters of four lakes down its gigantic abyss, keeps up, 
night and day, the same unceasing roar : and continually, between 
the sharp explosions of the platoon firing, that deep bass rose like a 
grand symphony. 

Lundy's Lane is a ridge, nearly at right angles with the Niagara 
river. Here, the enemy was posted, his left being in a road parallel 
to the stream, and hence at right angles to the lane. A space of two 
hundred yards covered with brushwood, extended between the two 
positions of the British army. Scott, with prompt genius, availing 
himself of this separation, ordered Major Jessup, under cover of the 
approaching twilight, to steal along these bushes, and turn the 
enemy's left. The order was quickly executed. So unexpectedly 
did Jessup burst on that portion of the British line, that it gave way 
on the instant before him, and General Riall, with other officers, 
was taken prisoner. To have kept the position, however, would 
have been impossible. Hence, with loud cheers, Jessup's command 
charged back, cutting off a portion of the enemy's left wing, and 
renewed its position in the line under Scott's immediate command. 

The British now made an attempt to turn our right, but this was 
promptly met by Scott, who detached Major M'Neill, with his 
battalion, to drive back the enemy. A furious conflict ensued. The 
shame of being baffled by an inferior force, seemed to transport the 
British to madness, and they fought, at this point, with even more 
than the desperate valor they had shown at Badajoz, Ciudad Rode- 
rigOj and San Sebastian. But the Americans, stimulated by the glory of 
repulsing such veterans, met them with a blaze of musketry that 
almost blinded the sight. Then was seen what men will do and 
suffer when inflamed by the rage of battle. The soldiers, on either 
side, appeared to think no more of the deadly balls flying about than 
Italians do of the missiles at a carnival. The soldier fell in his 
ranks ; the officer died at his post. The detachments were reduced 
fearfully in numbers, yet still each line was alternately a blaze of 
fire", and both seemed resolved not to give way. Finally, tne British, 
completely exhausted, fell back. Our flanks were safe. 

The strife had raged for two hours. The sun had long since set ; 
even the twihght had departed; and the moon, at first shining 
calmly over the scene, was now obscured by smoke. The struggle 
was continued solely by the flashes of the guns. The left of the 
enemy had been turned and cut off; his right had been hurled back 
from its assault on our flank. But his centre still stood firm. It was 
securely posted on the right, at the head of Lundy's Lane, and was 
supported by nine pieces of artillery, admirably secured. Between 



I 



ELEAZER W. RIPLEY. 163 

this portion of the enemy's army, and the front of our own, the con 
test waxed more desperate at every moment. It was at this point 
of the battle, when the darkness completely hid the enemy from 
sight, that Captain Brooke, taking a lantern wrapped in cloth, stole 
onward until he had discovered the exact ground occupied by the 
foe, and then, climbing a gnarled tree, deliberately fastened the light 
in the Une of fire. After this deed of chivalric courage, he returned 
safely to his company. The struggle now grew more deadly. It 
was supported, on our side, by the battalions of Brady and Leaven- 
worth, sustained by Towson's artillery. The enemy replied with 
equal obstinacy, long sheets of flame running across the height, like 
lightning shooting in the edges of a cloud. Yet the Americans were 
not to be driven from their position. Wide gaps were discerned in 
their line, but not a man of that heroic biigade flinched. All through 
that terrible night, for the battle raged until twelve o'clock, the men 
stood to their posts, determined to die there if necessary, but never 
to fly. Messenger after messenger had been sent ofl" by Scott, to 
hasten the approach of Brown ; and, at last, the ammunition began 
to give out. Then it was that an incident occurred so characteristic of the 
indomitable spirit of the American soldier, that it alone throws more 
light on the victory that followed, than would pages of scientific 
description. As the cry for ammunition passed along the line, a 
soldier fell shot through the heart. Clapping his hand to his side, 
he cried, " cartridges in my box !" Scott, who was but a few paces 
distant, ran to the man, but he was already dead. His last breath 
had been exhausted in telling his fellow soldiers that they would 
tind cartridges on his corpse. 

When Brown finally reached the scene of combat, to which he 
had hurried as soon as he could concentrate his forces, he found the 
brigade of Scott nearly cut to pieces. He resolved instantly to with- 
draw it to the rear, where it might recruit its exhausted ranks, while 
he brought up Ripley's fresh troops to maintain the contest. Being 
now in force to make a serious attempt on the foe. Brown determined 
to carry the battery at the head of the lane, that being the key of 
the British position. Accordingly, Colonel Miller was directed to 
storm this height in front ; while to Ripley was entrusted the task 
of driving the infantry that supported it. When the American 
commander, riding up to Miller, asked him if he could take the 
battery, the heroic answer was, " I will try !" Piloted by Scott 
through the darkness to the foot of the ascent. Miller rushed up tn© 
height, and seized the guns almost instantaneously. As Scott re- 
turned from performing his duty as guide, he saw that Ripley and 



164 



ELEAZER W. RIPLEY. 



the British infantry had come into action, at only twenty paces 
distant ; and, for a moment, he paused to witness the terrible strife. 
The enemy's line far outflanked the Americans, but nevertheless, 
the latter stood stubbornly to their ground. Ripley never fired until 
just after his adversary, choosing to wait for the flash of the British 
muskets in order to take aim: thus, the vollies from either side 
followed, like alternate claps of thunder. The night was intensely 
dark. The blue smoke lay thickly packed between the hostile lines, 
and, at every discharge, was lit up by a sulphurous glare, like the 
ghastly flame burned by magicians at their incantations. 

The enemy, having been reinforced in the meantime, now made 
a desperate attempt to regain the height. But, after a fierce struggle 
he was repulsed. Again he returned to the charge, and again was 
driven back. Scott's brigade, which had now been re-formed, par- 
ticipated in this rebuff". A third trial was made, but with like ill 
success. The American army, prior to these struggles, had taken 
up a new position, being drawn up with its back to the river, and 
at right angles to the lane. During the successive combats that took 
place for the possession of this ground, Scott had twice formed 
portions of his brigade into column, advanced, charged the enemy^s 
Hne also advancing, penetrated it, and driven it in disorder back. 
Wherever he called on his men to go, they followed, inspired by his 
heroism. Twice he had horses shot under him. He was wounded 
in the side ; but still kept the field. At last a musket ball disabled 
his left shoulder, and he sunk fainting to the ground. 

It was eleven o'clock when Scott was carried off" the field, and 
shortly after. Brown being also severely wounded and compelled to 
retire, the chief command devolved on Ripley. But the action was 
nearly over. Once more the British attempted to drive the Ameri- 
cans from their position, but were gallantly repulsed; and then, with 
the approach of midnight, the struggle ceased. Rarely had a battle 
been so fiercely contested. The Americans lost eight hundred 
and sixty ; the British rather more : each side about a third of its 
numerical force. Finding that the enemy no longer molested him, 
Ripley determined to return to camp in order to recruit his men : 
accordingly he fell back towards Chippewa, but without bringing 
off" the captured artillery, in consequence of its being dismantled. 
When he reached head-quarters. Brown sent for him, and ordered 
that the troops should be put into the best possible condition; that 
adequate refreshment should be supplied them; that the pickets and 
camp-guards should be called in to increase the force as much as 



ELEAZER W. RIPLEY. 165 

possible ; and that, with the dawn, Ripley, returning to the battle- 
field, should meet and beat the enemy, if he again appeared. 

Ripley, in consequence, advanced to Lundy's Lane in the morning, 
out finding the enemy had been reinforced in the night, deemed it 
most prudent to retreat. Brown was, at first, indignant at this con- 
duct, asserting that his orders to Ripley left no discretion in that 
oflicer. The latter, however, alleged that the instructions of the 
General were "to be governed entirely by circumstances.'' It is 
hardly probable, from the dogged resolution of Brown, that the 
Commander-in-chief, if well, would have made a retrograde move- 
ment ; but, on the contrary, it is nearly certain that he would have 
joined battle, and fought until he conquered, or was cut to pieces. 
In Brown's composition there was something of the iron will of 
Luther, who said that he would go to Worms, if every tile on the 
house-tops was a devil. Ripley had less stubborn tenacity. He 
belonged to the prudential school of Harrison, not to the fiery one 
of Scott and Brown. He was a second-rate General on such a field 
as Lundy's Lane ; but, in retarding an enemy during a retreat, had 
no superior: as the army discovered, subsequently, when compelled 
to fall back on Fort Erie. 

This retreat began on the 26th of July. Breaking down the 
bridges as he retired, and throwing other impediments in the British 
advance, Ripley conducted the troops to Fort Erie, which he began 
immediately to strengthen. The retrograde movement had, mean- 
time, received Brown's sanction, though he still preferred that to 
another officer than Ripley should be confided the defence of the 
army, and accordingly sent for General Gaines, who arriving at the 
Fort on the 4th of August, superseded Ripley. The latter, however, 
had skilfully employed the interval. Never did soldiers work more 
assiduously than the Americans on their entrenchments. The six 
days that elapsed between the arrival of our army and the appear- 
ance of the enemy sufficed to render the place impervious to assault: 
and to the energy of Ripley the salvation of this remnant of Brown's 
heroic division is altogether to be attributed. The enemy, finding 
that he could not carry the fort by storm, began a regular invest- 
ment, which continued until the latter end of September. Daring 
this period an uiisucces'sful attempt to assault the place took place, 
on the morning of the 15th of August. A triumphant sortie, made 
by Brown, who had recovered sufficiently to assume command, 
/irtually closed the siege on the 17th of September. 

In the sortie under Brown, Ripley led one of the detachments, and 
received a severe wound, from which his life was despaired of for 



ELEAZER W. RIPLEY. 

nearly three months. A year elapsed before he was fit for military 
service, and by that time peace prevented his return to the field. He 
was, however, rewarded with the brevet of a Major-General. Nor 
was this all, for by a vote of Congress, on the 3d of November, 1814, 
he was presented with a gold medal for his gallantry at Chippewa, 
Lmidy's Lane, and Fort Erie. 

Ripley, in 1815, removed to Baton Rouge, near New Orleans, 
where he had an estate. He was subsequently elected to Congress. 
He died in 1834. 





JAMES MILLER. 




AMES MILLER, a Brigadier-Gene- 
ral in the army of the United States, was one 
of the most spirited, daring, and competent 
officers in the war of 1812. He is particular- 
ly celebrated for his conduct in the battle of 
Lundy's Lane, where, at the head of his vete- 
ran regiment, he stormed a,nd carried the 
height occupied by the enemy's artillery. 
Miller was born at Petersburg, in the county of Hillsborough, 
New Hampshire, on the 25th of April, 1776. As a lad, he was 
principally celebrated for his love of idleness. One of his first teach- 

167 



168 JAMES MILLER. 

ers had been a sergeant in the War of Independence, and took 
pleasure in drilHng the boys during the interval of their studies. It is 
probable that the taste of Miller for military affairs was fostered by 
this process. In character, he was bold, self-willed, and at one 
period triumphantly headed what is called a "barring out," among 
the boys, compelling the teacher to grant the required holiday, 
together with an immunity to the young rebels. As he grew older, 
however, a nobler ambition began to actuate him. At the age of 
eighteen, stimulated by a desire to prosecute his education, he left 
his paternal home to attend the Academy at Amherst, with the 
slender outfit of a bundle of clothes, and the sum of one dollar and 
twenty-five cents in his pocket. He remained at the Academy 
until his credit, as well as funds, were exhausted, when he resorted 
to teaching ; and thus alternating between pupil and instructor, he 
finally completed his education. In this conduct, we recognize the 
same energy, self-reliance, and perseverance which afterwards ren- 
dered him distinguished as a military leader. 

At the age of twenty-seven, after nine years thus spent, he was 
admitted to practice law, and settled at Greenfield, in his native state. 
When, however, in 1809, Congress resolved to increase the army, 
Miller received the commission of a Major, having first held the 
post of Captain of Artillery in the New Hampshire militia. He im- 
mediately joined his regiment at Boston, and continued employed in 
garrison duty until 1811, when he was elevated to the rank of 
Lieutenant-Colonel, and ordered to march to Pittsburgh. From this 
place he was detached to join General Harrison. In descending the 
river with his troops, he exposed his person to such a degree, that he 
caught a violent fever, which brought him to the brink of the grave. 
The want of proper attention prolonged his illness. From the 4th 
of May to the 18th of November, he slept but two nights under a 
roof In consequence, he was not present at the battle of Tippe- 
canoe. The ensuing wintr^r he spent at Vincennes, in the family 
of Harrison, employed in recruiting his health. 

In May, 1812, he received orders to join General Hull. He over- 
took that officer at Urbana, and accompanied him to Detroit. The 
supplies from Ohio having been cut off by the British and savages. 
Miller was detached, with six hundred regular troops, to open the 
communication. He started on this expedition on the evening of 
the 8fh of August, 1812, and on the following day came up with 
the enemy, at Brownstown. The force of the latter consisted of three 
hundred Brhish, and four hundred and fifty Indians, who were 
posted on strong ground, defended by artificial means. Miller prompt- 



JACOB MILLER. 



169 



ly assaulted the works, and, after a short conflict, defeated the enemy. 
Tecumseh, and a few other savages, who had leaped over the breast- 
work, confident of victory, were gallantly repulsed at the point of 
the bayonet. The fughives were pursued to their boats, about half 
a mile distant. The next day. Miller returned to Detroit. Had all 
the operations of the campaign been prosecuted with the same spirit, 
how dilferent would have been the result ! 

In company with Colonel Cass, Miller was the first American 
officer to carry our flag into Canada. In the afl?'air of Canard, he 
fought with intrepidity, but being unsupported by the General, lost 
the fruits of the victory. But it was in the succeeding year, on the 
Niagara frontier, that he covered himself with laurels. He was at 
Chippewa, Lundy's Lane, and Fort Erie, on all which occasions he 
displayed the utmost gallantry. At the battle of Lundy's Lane, 
when it became necessary to carry a height which commanded the 




8COTT PILOTING MILLER TO LDNDY'S LAKE. 



field, and on which the British artillery was posted. General Brown 
rode up to Colonel Miller, and said : " Sir, can you take that bat- 
tery }" " I will try !" was the laconic reply. The night was so dark 
that Siott, who was famiUarly acquainted with the ground, had to 
XV 22 



170 



JACOB MILLER. 



pilot the regiment to the required position. In a few minutes. Mil- 
ler reached the foot of the ascent With a Avild huzza, the troops 
rushed up the hill, charging to the cannon's mouth. The bat^^ry 
was carried in an instant. The victory was won. 

Miller was promoted to the rank of a Brigadier-General for his 
conduct at Chippewa. In the sortie at Fort Erie, he commanded 
one of the detachments, and carried, in thirty minutes, the two prin- 
cipal batteries of the British. For his brilliant conduct on these 
occasions, he was presented, by a vote of Congress, with a gold 
medal, the motto being the two memorable words he used at Lun- 
dv's Lane. When the war ceased, he left the army, and retired 
to his estate at Peterborough, in his native state, where he continued 
to reside for several years. Here he devoted his time to social in- 
tercourse, and to the pursuit of agriculture. In the domestic circle 
his cheeiiulness and kindness were pre-eminent, and the more 
striking,nhough not the more singular, in consequence of his im- 
petuosity in the field. It is said few persons could be long in his 
society without being both happier and wiser. 

General Miller was subsequently made Collector of the Port of Salem, 
Massachusetts, where he has since continued to reside. An attack 
of paralysis has deprived him nearly altogether of the power of 
speech, but his other faculties continue unimpaired. 





NATHAN TOWSON, 



HIS distinguished officer, now Pay- 
master-General of the army with the 
rank of Brigadier, was considered, in 
the war of 1812, the ablest artillery 
officer in the country. It is doubtful 
indeed, whether he had his superior in 
the world. He distinguished hims-elf 
on various occasions, the three most 
prominent of which were Black Rock, 
Chippewa, and Lundy's Lane. 

Towson was born at a small vil- 
lage called Towsonton, about seven 
miles from Baltimore, on the 22d of 
January, 1784. He received the rudiments of his education at a 

171 




172 NATHAN TOWSON. 

country school, and is said to have shown considerable fondness for 
learning. At the age of sixteen he left the paternal mansion, and 
removed to Kentucky, for the purpose of cultivating a farm there 
belonging to his father ; but finding the property in dispute, he soon 
left that state and removed to Natches, in the then Mississippi terri- 
tory, where he resided for three years. During the time he dwelt 
at this place, Louisiana was purchased by the United States. Sus- 
picions of some diiRculty in annexing it being entertained, Governor 
Clairborne, of Mississippi, raised a band of volunteers and marched 
to New Orleans. Of this force Towson was one, making his first 
essay in arms. 

In 1805 Towson returned to Maryland, and from this period until 
the war of 1812, was chiefly occupied in agricultural pursuits. He 
retained, hoVever, a fondness for military affairs, and served as 
Adjutant in the seventh Maryland militia. A portion of his leisure 
hours he devoted to the cultivation of poetry. From these com- 
paratively quiet pursuits he was called away on the 15th of March, 
1812, and received the appointment of Captain of artillery in the 
army of the United States, a post which his reputation for military 
talents, rather than any predominating influence, had obtained for 
him. He soon recruited his company, and, in August, joined his 
superior oflicer, Lieutenant-Colonel Scott, at Philadelphia. Imme- 
diately after, Scott was ordered to General Dearborn's head-quarters, 
on the northern frontier, whither he repaired with Towson's and 
Barker's companies. 

Towson now signalized himself by performing his first exploit. 
Being at Black Rock, protecting the fitting out of the vessels for the lake 
service, Lieutenant Elliott projected the capture of two of the enemy's 
ships lying under the guns of Fort Erie, and the lot fell on Towson 
to command one of the two boats destined for the expedition. He 
accordingly boarded and carried the Caledonia in the most gallant 
manner. Indeed the whole brunt of the fight fell on him, for having 
been the first to attack, the approach of Elliott was unperceived, and 
the latter took his vessel almost by surprise. The Caledonia sub- 
sequently grounded, but was saved by the intrepidity of Towson, and 
afterwards became one of Perry's immortal fleet. For his conduct 
on this occasion he received the brevet of Major. 

At the battle of Queenstown, Towson reiiiained with his artillery 
on the American shore ; for there were no boats in which he could 
cross. He kept up, however, a spirited cannonade on the enemy's 
position. In the spring of 1813, he was attached to General Winder's 
brigade, and participated with it in the attack on Fort George. At 



NATHAN TOWSON. |73 

the encounter at Stoney Creek he was the senior officer of artillery. 
Here he lost his guns, and was himself made prisoner ; but he suc- 
ceeded in effecting his escape, and even regained two of his pieces. 
While the army subsequently lay at Fort George, there were almost 
daily skirmishes between the Americans and British ; and in one 
of these affairs Towson received a wound in his hand. He was left 
at Fort George, when Boyd moved down the St. Lawrence. After- 
wards his company was marched to Sackett's Harbor, where it 
continued until April, 1814. 

In the battle of Chippewa Towson played a distinguished part: 
indeed, after Brown and Scott, he was the hero of the day. His 
company was the only artillery one on our side, engaged in the 
action. The enemy had an equal number of guns, but while Towson's 
were only six pounders, those of the British were twenty-four poun- 
ders. At the beginning of the action the pieces of the foe were well 
served, and their fire was very destructive ; but so close and well 
aimed were the discharges of Towson, that, before the battle was 
half over, the British guns were silent, their ammunition wagon 
blown up, and most of the artillery horses killed. It was with great 
difficulty that the guns were saved in the retreat, and then only by 
the interposition of the dragoons, who harnessed their animals to the 
pieces and galloped off with them at the last extremity. Towson, 
during this battle, was laboring under an inflammation of the eyes, 
and, for a time, could not distinguish the exact position of the enemy 
through the smoke. When Scott was about to make the brilliant 
movement, by which he crushed the enemy's battalions between his 
own, he perceived that Towson was firing in the wrong direction, 
and hastening to his side, he reined in his steed and pointed out 
where the British were. Towson instantly changed the direction of 
his pieces, and, loading with cannister, opened an oblique fire, which 
enfiladed the enemy from right to left. The effect was murderous. 
The masses of the foe were prostrated, as when a hail-storm beats 
down the corn. This fearful fire, seconded, as it was, by Scott's 
movement, won the day. The British fell back, and victory was 
ours For his conduct on this glorious field, Towson received the 
brevet of a Lieutenant-Colonel. 

At Lundy's Lane, Towson again earned laurels. The charge of 
Miller, which carried the key to the enemy's position, was made at 
the suggestion of Towson. During the battle, his immediate com 
mand suffered severely. Both his Lieutenants were wounded, and 
ol thirty-six men who served at his guns, twenty-seven were killed 
01 injured. At last, on the arrival of the reinforcements, he was 



174 NATHAN TOWSON. 

partially relieved from his perilous position. But the victory was 
owing to the invincible courage with which Towson, Jessup, and 
others of that stamp, disputed the ground for the first two hours. 
The official report of this battle says; "Towson's company attached 
to the first brigade, was the first and last engaged ; and, during the 
whole conflict, maintained that high character which they had pre- 
viously shown, by their skill and valor.'^ 

Towson was at Fort Erie on the night of the memorable assault, 
August the 15th, 1814. He commanded at the left flank, which 
proved to be the post of danger and honor. The night had been 
rainy, and was still pitch dark, but the sentinels kept good watch, 
and detecting the steps of the approaching column, gave notice to 
Towson, who at once opened a roUing fire on the assailants. For 
some minutes, it is said, his bastion was a sheet of flame. So inces- 
sant, indeed, were the discharges that the soldiers called his battery, 
Towson's light house ; a name which stuck to it to the close of the war. 
General Ripley, in speaking of this part of the action, says: "I cannot 
refrain from adverting to the manner in which Captain Towson's 
artillery was served ; I have never seen it equalled. This officer has 
so often distinguished himself, that to say simply he is in action, is a 
volume of eulogium : the army, only to be informed he is there, by 
a spontaneous assent are at once satisfied that he has performed well 
his part." 

At the close of the war Towson was assigned the command of the 
troops at Boston. He was subsequently at Newport, R. I. In 1819, 
he left the line of the army, and was appointed Paymaster-General, 
which office he has since continued to fill. In 1834, under the act 
recommended by President Jackson, Towson became entitled to an 
additional brevet ; and accordingly took rank as a Brigadier from 
the I'Sth of August, 1824, the tenth anniversary of the battle of 
Fort Erie. 

Towson, from his elevation to the Paymaster-Generalship has 
resided principally at Washington. He continued to fulfil the duties 
of his responsible station, until January, 1848, when he was ordered 
to Mexico, to preside at the court of enquiry held on the Commander- 
in-chief. 

We may close this sketch with the opinion passed on him by 
Wilkinson, certainly not a lenient judge : " At Chippewa, as at 
Minden, the fate of the day was settled by the artillery; and the 
American Towson may deservedly be ranked with the British 
Phillips, Drummond and Foy." 




THOMAS S. JESSUP 




^^ HE name of Jessup has long been 
associated, in the popular mind, 
with all that is brilliant and daring. 
He was one of that glorious band of 
young men who distinguished them- 
selves in the campaign of 1814, and 
who may be considered the founders 
of that high military spirit which 
'^- "v^-H^M r^^i^g now distinguishes the republic. It 
^-^'' was Scott, Towson, Jessup, Worth, 
and others of like heroic mould, who first taught the now admitted 
fact, that an American soldier must never contemplate the proba 
bility of defeat. 

Jessup was born in Virginia, about the year 1788. While he 
was still very young, his family emigrated to Ohio. The earlier 
years of this distinguished officer were accordingly passed on the 
frontier, where the physical qualities generally expand more than 
the intellectual ones. Jessup, however, early showed considerable 
ability. He was especially distinguished by a taste for military pur- 
suits. In May, 1808, he entered the army as a Second-Lieutenant 
of infantry, Scott entering on the same day as a Captain of artillery. 
When the war of 1812 began, his rise was rapid and brilliant. 

At the battle of Chippewa, Jessup, now a Major, commanded the 
battalion on the left flank of Scott's brigade. He had been ordered 

175 



176 THOMAS S. JESSUP. 

to prevent the enemy outflanking him, and in his effort to effect his 
purpose, found himself pressed both in front and on the flank, while 
his men were falling fast around him. The emergency was critical. 
An ordinary officer would have lost the day. But Jessup, ordering 
his battalion, with a firm voice, to " support arms, and advance," 
the men, animated by his lofty courage, obeyed, and swept the field. 
The manner in which, amid a desperate fire, his battalion executed 
this movement, has always received warm praise, and the credit of 
the success, in this part of the field, is attributed entirely to his cool- 
ness, promptitude and courage. For his conduct at Chippewa, he 
received the brevet of Lieutenant-Colonel. 

In the battle of Lundy's Lane, also, he reaped laurels. In this 
action, he commanded the twenty-fifth regiment. Perceiving that 
the British commander had thoughtlessly left a road behind him 
unguarded, Jessup rallied his brave troops around him, and precipi- 
tated himself into the enemy's rear. For a few moments the British 
stood their ground, but the slaughter among them was dreadful ; and 
at the fourth fire of our infantry, they fled down the road. General 
Riall, with many officers of rank, fell into the hands of Jessup by 
this daring movement. The British Commander-in-chief, Lieuten- 
ant-General Drummond, would also have been captured, but Jessup 
hearing that the first brigade was cut to pieces, and finding himself with 
but two hundred men, surrounded by the enemy, thought it advisa- 
ble to retreat, and save his command. At a later period of the 
combat, after the height in the lane had been carried by Miller, 
Jessup, with the twenty-fifth, assisted that officer to repel three 
several assaults on the position. For his demeanor in this battle, 
Jessup was brevetted a Colonel. 

After the peace, Jessup was retained in the army. In 1818, he 
was appointed Quartermaster-General, with the rank of a Brigadier. 
In 1828, he received the brevet of a Brigadier in due course. When 
Scott was recalled from Florida, Jessup was appointed to the vacant 
command. He continued in charge of the Seminole war for many 
years, and it was during the period of his command that Osceola was 
captured. After the battle of Okee-Chobee, Jessup was recalled, 
and the conduct of the war confided to Taylor. 

Jessup accompanied Scott to Mexico, where, however, he did not 
remain long. The duties of his office, though important, did not 
call him into active service, and, consequently, he had no means of 
signalizing himself. 



Ill I 




EDMUND P. GAINES 



D M U N D Pendleton Gaines, 
a brevet Major-General in the 
army of the United States, was 
A the hero of Fort Erie. He 
was born in Culpepper county, 
Virginia, on the 20th of March, 1777. 
Shortly after he had attained his thir- 
teenth year, his father removed to Ten- 
nessee, and settled in Sullivan county, 
in the immediate vicinity of which the 
Cherokee Indians committed frequent 
depredations. The necessity of self-defence against these foes, turned 
the thoughts of young Gaines to military affairs. He studied every 

23 177 




178 EDMUND P. GAINES. 

Dook relating to the art that he could obtain. He became celebrated 
as one of the best shots on the border. At the early age of eighteen, he 
was elected Lieutenant of a rifle company, raised against the 
Cherokees. 

In January, 1799, he received his first commission, which was that 
of an Ensign in the army of the United States. In the following 
year, he was advanced to the rank of Second-Lieutenant, in the fourth 
infantry. In 1801, young Gaines was selected by his Colonel to 
make a topographical survey, from Nashville to Natchez, in order 
to locate a military road, under the direction of the United States. 
In this duty, and in the survey of certain Indian boundaries near 
fthe Choctaw nation, he was engaged until 1804. These trusts, thus 
confided to him, show the high opinion already formed of his scien- 
tific acquirements. He was now appointed military collector of 
customs for the district of Mobile, and was stationed at Fort Stod- 
dart, thirty-six miles north of the town of Mobile. In 1806 he was 
promoted to a captaincy. He was the officer who, at this period, 
arrested Burr, under the President's proclamation. Subsequently, 
he entertained the idea of abandoning the pursuit of arms and 
embracing that of the law ; and even went so far as to ask leave of 
absence, and begin the practice of the profession in Washington and 
Baldwin counties, Mississippi. But the war with England, soon 
after breaking out, he resumed his sword, and has not since aban- 
doned it. 

Gaines was attached to the army of Harrison during the campaign 
of 1813, but illness prevented his sharing in the victory of the 
Thames. He had now been raised to the rank of Colonel, and in 
the action at Chrystler's Fields, on the 1 1th of November of that 
year, commanded the twenty-fifth regiment. His duty, on this day, 
was to cover the embarkation of our troops, after the enemy had 
been checked ; and this service he performed in the most admirable 
manner. Cool in danger, yet sufficiently impetuous ; fertile in 
resources, though never visionary; Gaines soon established a very 
high reputation, and was rewarded with the rank of Brigadier- 
General. When, after the battle of Lundy's Lane, the British con- 
centrated all their available forces on the Niagara, and compelled 
the Americans, so lately victorious, to retreat to Fort Erie, it was 
to Gaines that Brown turned his eyes in the illness of himself and 
Scott, to defend that place. Accordingly, Gaines being summoned 
to the fort, superseded Ripley in the command, though without 
making any change in his predecessor's arrangements. Shortly after 
his arrival, in the night between the 14th and 15th of August, 1814, 



lllWll 



EDMUND P. GAINES. 179 

the memorable assault on Fort Erie was made. The victory that 
crowned our arms on that occasion, has made the name of Gaines 
immortal. Had not the enemy been repulsed, the remnant of Brown's 
heroic brigade would have been annihilated, the moral effect of the 
late victories lost, and the war protracted probably for years. 

Fort Erie had been reached by the retiring army on the 27th of 
July, and, from that day, to the third of August, when the enemy 
arrived before the place, the soldiers labored incessantly to strengthen 
the works. The forces of the British were about four thousand two 
hundred, while those of the Americans, at no time 'during the siege, 
amounted to two thousand five hundred. Had the enemy arrived 
two days before, with such overpowering numbers, the Americans 
must have become his prey ; but the latter had worked with an 
assiduity almost unparalleled in history, and the British, perceiving 
nothing was to be done by a coup de main, sat down to invest the 
place. The main camp of the foe was placed about two miles from 
the fort. In front of this camp a line of circumvaliation extended 
partially around the works ; it consisted of two lines of intrench- 
ments, supported bji block-houses. In front of these trenches, batte- 
ries were erected at favorable points. One battery, in particular, 
enfiladed the works. The guns of the enemy were never silent, 
from the moment they were mounted, but continued to pour a 
destructive and unceasing fire on the fort. 

It was on the 4th of August, the day after the investment, that 
Gaines took the command. The following day the cannonade and 
bombardment begun. These were vigorously maintained, varied 
by occasional sharp conflicts between the infantry and rifle corps of 
the two armies, up to the morning of the grand assault. The loss in 
these skirmishes amounted, in the aggregate, to more than the loss 
on the 15th ; but the lives were not sacrificed in vain, since, in 
these preliminary contests, the garrison gained confidence for the 
final and decisive struggle. On one occasion, a shell from the British 
penetrated a magazine, which was, fortunately, nearly empty, and 
hence, though it blew up with a terrible explosion, none of the 
works were injured, nor was a single member of the garrison killed. 
Both armies, however, were appalled for a moment. The firing on 
each side ceased. All eyes, on the part of the enemy, were turned 
towards the magazine, where a dark column of smoke, brooding 
ominously over the ruins, magnified the disaster, and caused a shout 
of exultation after the first moments of silence. The hurrah had 
scarcely ceased, before the Americans returned it, and instantly 




180 EDMUND P. GAINES. 

opened their batteries afresh. The British repUed, and soon this 
interlude was forgotten in the renewed roar of battle. 

Gaines, however, after this, expected an assault, for ne knew 
the explosion would lead the enemy to suppose he was short of 
ammunition. Accordingly, he held himself ready for an attack at 
any moment. At last, about two o'clock in the morning of the 
15th, the steady tramp of an enemy was heard upon the left, long 
before the darkness allowed his forces to be seen. Gaines was on 
horseback at the time, and promptly galloped to the point of attack. 
Just as he reached the angle of the fort, the musketry and artillery 
opened on the foe, and by the lurid light thus flung across the night, 
he beheld a column, fifteen hundred strong, close upon the works. 
Onward it came, reckless of the tremendous fire, until within ten 
feet of the American infantry. Fortunately an abattis, formed of loose 
brush, intervened, and checked the British regulars, but rapidly 
turning aside, they plunged into the lake, waist deep, in order to 
turn the abattis, and with mutual shouts of encouragement, struggled 
thus towards the works. Gaines, fearing this point would be carried, 
ordered up a detachment of riflemen and infant^, but Major Wood, 
who commanded here, assured him that the position could be held 
without assistance. His words were soon made good. Before the 
deadly fire of Towson's artillery and Wood's musketry, the English 
recoiled, and though they rallied and advanced again immediately, 
they were once more repulsed. After this, no further assault on the 
left was attempted. 

Simultaneously, however, a much heavier body of the enemy was 
precipitated against the right of the fort, and here, in consequence of 
the immensely preponderating numbers, the contest was more severe. 
The British advanced in two columns. The one on the extreme 
right, was speedily repulsed. But that in the centre, led by Colonel 
Drummond, one of the bravest, yet most brutal men of the royal 
army, was not to be checked, either by the sight of the walls 
crowded with soldiers, the voUies of musketry pouring from them, 
or the torrents of grape that swept by. His soldiers charged over 
the open ground, down into the ditch, and up its sides, where plant- 
ing their ladders against the parapet, they ascended in despite of 
the Americans. But now the defenders, rallying themselves with 
desperate resolution, for if they failed here, the day was lost, grap 
pled with the foe, and after a fierce struggle, hurled him back with 
dreadful carnage. The assault was repeated with indomitable 
soirit, but again repulsed. A third time the enemy planted nis 



hlHUi 



EDMUND P. GAINES. 181 

ladders, and a third time was nearly precipitated into the ditch. 
But now covered by the darkness, which was rendered more dense 
in consequence of the thick masses of smoke that lay packed at the 
foot of the works, the column turned a little to the right, and with 
a sudden rush, re-ascended the ladders, and falling, with pike and 
bayonet on the astounded artillerists, carried the bastion, after a 
brief, but deadly resistance. Colonel Drummond was at the head 
of the storming party, cheering on his men. Captain Williams, in 
command at this point, fell, mortally wounded. Lieutenant McDo- 
nough continued to fight until severely hurt, and then demanded 
quarter. It was refused by Colonel Drummond, who rushed at 

him, shouting : " Give the d d Yankees no quarter V Seizing a 

gun-rammer, McDonough desperately defended himself, scattering 
the enemy right and left, until Drummond, with a pistol, shot him 
dead. The British now streamed over the bastion, and attempted 
to rush on the fort, Colonel Drummond, waving his sword in the 

van, and repeating his brutal shout, " No quarter to the d d 

Yankees !" The words, however, this time had scarcely left his 
mouth, before he leaped into the air, and tumbled headlong, shot 
through the heart by a private of one of the regiments of regulars. 

Meantime the enemy having been repulsed on the left, Gaines 
had ordered up reinforcements from that quarter. In the interval, 
however, the British were held in check, and kept from advancing 
beyond the bastion, by the rapid and well-aimed discharges of Captain 
Fanning's field-pieces, which mowed down the foe wherever he left 
covert. Once or twice the Americans attempted to regain the bastion; 
but the effort was fruitless : they rolled back from its impervious 
sides like a baffled tide receding from the rocks. The night still con- 
tinued intensely dark. But suddenly the whole firmament was lit up 
as at noon-day. The earth quaked. All thought the fort blowing up. 
When the smoke cleared off, the English m the bastion, from which 
the explosion appeared, were seen rushing wildly towards the ditch. 
At the same instant the cause of the disaster was made apparent. 
A quantity of cartridges had been deposited in the end of a stone 
building adjoining the bastion, and these igniting, had blown up. 
The vivid blaze of light was over in an instant, and comparative 
gloom fell around. But, through the darkness, the cries of the 
British, who, in their panic, believed the Americans were going to 
destroy themselves and the fort, rose wild and high over the rece- 
ding echoes of the explosion. 

Captain Biddle hastened to improve this moment of consternationj 
by enfilading the exterior plain and salient glacis with his field-piece 

XVI 



1&^ EDMTTND P. GAINES. 

Captain Fanning also followed the enemy with rapid and deadly 
discharges from his artillery. The effect of these united fires, con- 
joined with their late affright, was such that the British could not 
recover themselves, but breaking in every direction, fled swiftly 
from the ramparts. When the ensuing morning dawned upon the 
sanguinary scene, two hundred and twenty-one of the enemy were 
found lifeless on the field, besides one hundred and seventy-four 
who had been too severely wounded to be carried off. In addition 
to this, there were one hundred and sixty-eight prisoners. The 
American loss was seventeen killed, fifty-six wounded, and eleven 
missing. Thus ended the assault on Fort Erie. When it is recol- 
lected that on the preservation of that work hung the whole morale 
of the army, and that a distinguished oflicer of brigade under General 
Brown had declared it impossible to resist successfully, we can form 
some idea, though but a faint one, of the immense importance of 
the triumph. 

On the 2Sth of August, Gaines received a wound from the bursting 
of a shell, which incapacitated him for a while from service; and 
accordingly the command devolved again on Ripley. For his gal- 
lantry in the assault Gaines was soon after brevetted a Major-General. 
Congress voted him also a gold medal. The states of Virginia, 
Tennessee and Alabama each presented him with a sword. On the 
reduction of the army, after the peace, he was retained in his ola 
rank. 

He served for some time in the south, on the Florida frontier. 
Subsequently he was detached to the western department, and was 
in command of it when Black Hawk's war broke out. His move- 
ments were spirited and energetic, but he was soon superseded. He 
was next appointed to his old station in the south, and was there 
when Dade's massacre occurred. He immediately proceeded to 
chastise the Seminoles. In this campaign he was twice attacked by 
the enemy, whom, on both occasions, he repulsed. On. the 11th of 
March, 1836, he was superseded by Scott. 

For several succeeding years he was kept in comparative inactivity. 
In 1846, however, he was at New Orleans when intelligence arrived 
of Taylor's peril on the Rio Grande, before the battle of Palo Alto. 
Gaines immediately issued a requisition for a large force of volun- 
teers. For this act, deemed unnecessary at the time, he was recalled 
and censured by a court-martial. 

Gaines died at New Orleans, on the 6th of June, 1849. 



ililllllii 




PETER B. PORTER. 




ETER B. PORTER, a Major- 
General in the war of 1812, con- 
tributed largely to the success of 
the campaign on the Niagara. — 
Rallying the volunteers in the summer of 
.^ 1813, he continued at the head of that corps 
^^^ of the army throughout the ensuing year; 
and at Chippewa, Lundy's Lane and Fort 
^j^Erie fought with the personal intrepidity of 
a hero. For his services at this eventful 
period of our history, Congress, by a resolution of November the 3d. 
1814, presented him with a gold medal. 

Porter was born at Salisbury, Connecticut, on the 14th of August, 
1773. After completing his preliminary studies, he entered Yale 
College, where he subsequently graduated with high honor. Having 
afterwards studied the law, he settled to practise in his native place. 

183 




184 



PETER B. PORTER. 



Here he rose rapidly to influence. He was elected to Congress, and 
in that body chosen chairman of the Committee of Foreign Relations. 
In 1811, he was appointed a commissioner in relation to inland 
navigation ; and he had thus the honor of being one of the first 
to lay the corner stone in the prosperity of New York. The war 
of 1812, however, called him to sterner duties. Having removed 
to Black Rock, he was there when the descent was made on that 
place in 1813, and, placing himself at the head of the hastily col- 
lected volunteers, succeeded in repelling the attack. From that hour 
he was an active participater in the war on the northern frontier. 

Porter having been made a Brigadier-General, was present with 
his command at the battle of Chippewa. His task was to march 
through t\te, woods, and endeavor to turn the right of the enemy ; 
but though foiled in executing this duty, he gallantly met and re- 
pulsed the British. General Brown, in his official despatch, says : 
" The conduct of General Porter has been Conspicuously gallant : 
every assistance in his power to afford, with the description of force 
under his command, has been rendered.'^ In the battle of Lundy's 
Lane, also. Porter signalized himself; and by his personal heroism, 
excited that of his corps. General Brown officially speaks of him 
as follows : " It is with great pleasure I saw the good order and 
intrepidity of General Porter's volunteers from the moment of their 
arrival; but, during the last charge of the enemy, those qualities 
were conspicuous. Stimulated by their gallant leader, they precipi- 
tated themselves upon the enemy's line, and made all the prisoners 
which were taken at this point of the action." 

In the series of skirmishes at Fort Erie, ending with the repulse 
of the British assault on the 15th of August, 1814, Porter played a 
very prominent part. During the terrible morning of the 15th, he 
commanded the centre, and, with his riflemen and volunteers, con- 
tributed materially to the victory on that occasion. For his conduct 
during this campaign, he was promoted to the rank of Major-General. 
At the close of the war, Porter returned to political life, and in 
1815, was elected to Congress. During the ensuing year, the office 
of Secretary of State was tendered to him, but he declined it. He 
was one of the commissioners appointed, in 181 7,' to run the boun- 
dary line between the United States and Canada. He was Secretary 
of War for awhile under the Presidency of John Quincy Adams. 
In 1829 he retired to private life. 
Porter died at Niagara, on the 20th of March, 1844. 




ALEXANDER MACOMB 




N the struggle for Independenc* 
the west was a wilderness, and 
consequently could furnish no 
heroes for the war. But since 
that period, it has supplied, per- 
haps, more soldiers and Generals than any 
other section. Alexander Macomb was the 
first military commander born in the west 
who rose to distinction. His birth occurred 
at Detroit, in the present state of Michigan, 
on the Sd of April, 17S2. While still a child, however, the family 
removed to New York, and young Macomb was placed at a cel- 
brated school in Newark, N. J., to be educated. Here he remained 
several years. 

185 24 vix* 




186 



ALEXANDER MACOMB. 



In 1798, the difficulties with France became so serious as to 
threaten hostilities, and preparations were made actively throughout 
the Union for a war with that republic. Among others, young 
Macomb tendered his sword to his country, and was enrolled in a 
company called the " New York Rangers," whose services had been 
offered and accepted by the President. The ambition of the young 
volunteer soon aspired to a commission in the regular army, and, in 
1799, he succeeded in obtaining the appointment of a Cornet. The 
difficulties between the United States and France being amicably 
adjusted, most of those who had enlisted for the war, retired to more 
peaceful avocations. Macomb, however, had a strong military 
bent, and was eager to continue in the service. Accordingly, on the 
subsequent formation of a corps of engineers, he was appointed to 
a lieutenancy in it, and stationed, for a time, at West Point. In 
1805, he rose to the rank of Captain, and in 1808, to that of Major. 
During all this time he remained in the engineers. When, however, 
the war of 1812 broke out, he asked to be transferred to the artil- 
lery, because there would be little opportunity of distinguishing him 
self in his old corps. He had, during his comparatively long 
service earned a reputation for substantial merit, and, in consequence 
his request was granted. He was appointed a Colonel, and given 
the command of the third regiment. This regiment had yet to be 
raised, but the ranks were not long in filling up ; for in November, 
1812, Macomb was able to join the army on the northern frontier, 
with his new command. Here he distinguished himself at Niagara 
and Fort George. In January, 1814, he was raised to the rank of 
Brigadier. The charge of the country bordering on Lake Champlain, 
was now entrusted to him, and it was here that he won the battle of 
Plattsburgh, one of the most gallant victories of the war. 

The summer of 1814 was a gloomy one for the United States. 
The war in Europe had just been brought to a close by the abdica- 
tion of Napoleon, and the British veterans, thus disengaged, were 
sent, at once, across the Atlantic. During the month of July, traq- 
sports continually arrived in the St. Lawrence, crowded with the 
troops of Wellington. By the first of August, fifteen thousand men 
had been added to the British disposable force in the Canadas. Nor 
were these reinforcements composed of ordinary soldiers. On the 
contrary, they were culled from the flower of the Enghsh army — 
from the conquerors of Badajoz, San Sebastian, and Bayonne. The 
battles of Chippewa and Lundy's Lane assisted, in a measure, to 
remove the public despondency, by proving that, against equal 
numbers, our regular troops, when ably commanded, had little to 



ALEXANDER MACOMB. ^ 187 

fear. But the peril consisted in the overwhelming forces of the 
enemy. Not a ^yeek passed in the month of August, which did not 
bring more transports from Europe, with fresh additions of veteran 
soldiers to increase the already overflowing army in the Canadas. 
After numerous additions had been made to the force on the Niagara, 
there remained fourteen thousand men on the lower St. Lawrence; 
and these, organized under Sir George Prescott, were destined, it 
was secretly whispered, to move down Lake Champlain, seize the 
line of the Hudson, and cutting off New England from the rest of 
the confederation, finish by capturing the city of New York. 

When this bold design became first known to the Americans, they 
had no army on Champlain competent for resistance, for General 
Izard had just marched towards Niagara with all his disposable 
strength, in order to relieve Fort Erie. Macomb, who now found 
himself the senior officer, had no organized battalions, if we except 
four companies of the sixth regiment. The remainder of his force, 
which amounted only to about fifteen hundred effective men, was 
composed of convalescents and recruits of the new regiments. His 
works were weak ; the stores were in confusion ; the ordnance out of 
order ; and, in short, everything in the worst possible condition to 
face an active, enterprising and veteran foe. Every day intelligence 
was brought in that the enemy had approached nearer. His procla- 
mations soon revealed that his design was to attack Plattsburgh. 
At this the inhabitants fled in alarm. Macomb was quickly left 
with no assistance beyond his regulars, except what was de- 
rived from a few men and boys, who, ashamed to desert their 
homes like others, formed themselves into a company, received 
rifles, and went zealously to work. 

But the emergency found the American General with a mind 
equal to its demands. A different spirit pervaded him from that 
which had led to disgrace under Hull and Wilkinson. In 1813, 
perhaps, the Americans would have abandoned Plattsburgh without 
a blow ; but a new race of men had risen to be leaders, and the 
people, who always catch more or less of the feelings of their Gene- 
rals, were now as confident as they would then have been despond- 
ing. Macomb did all he could to increase that confidence. He 
reminded his men of what their fellow-soldiers had achieved at 
Chippewa and Lundy's Lane ; and assured them, that if possessed 
of a like resolution, they could as nobly sustain the honor of their 
flag. He divided his little force into detachments, and assigned them 
stations near the several forts, declaring, in his general orders, that 
each detachment was the garrison of its own work, and must rely 



188 ALEXANDER MACOMB. 

entirely on itself. He lost no time in rallying the country people to 
his assistance. He urged General Mooers, of the militia, to make 
a levy en masse. When the troops began to come in, he sent them 
forward to break up the roads and destroy the bridges. In a word, 
the same system which had been tried with such success to defeat Bur- 
goyne, was now vigorously applied to check the advance of 
Prevost. Yet, for awhile, every effort to arrest the progress of the 
British proved abortive. The detachments sent out to meet the van 
of the enemy, fell back in confusion. With the proud step of assured 
conquerors, the English advanced against Plattsburgh, and on the 
6th of September, made their appearance before that place, driving 
in impetuously, the parties of militia that attempted to skirmish on 
their front. Even a body of riflemen that met the enemy debouch- 
ing from a wood, failed to arrest him. A battery of field pieces, 
that next opened on him, had no better success. Undaunted, those 
scarred and sun-burnt veterans, the heroes of a hundred conflicts on 
the hills of Spain, pressed shouting on, never deploying in their 
wliole march, but advancing vauntingly in columns. 

The village of Plattsburgh is situated on the north-west side of a 
stream called the Saranac, which, at no great distance, empties into 
Lake Champlain. The American works were placed on the other side 
of the river, opposite the town. Consequently, when the enemy had 
driven in the skirmishing parties of our little army, no resource remained 
but to abandon the village and retreat to the shelter of the works. In 
order to cover this movement, the field-pieces were hurried across 
the bridge, and hastily thrown into battery, when a furious and 
incessant fire was opened on the advancing masses of the British. 
The troops, as they retired, moreover, kept up a running discharge of 
volleys on the foe. By this means every corps succeeded in eff'ecting 
its escape. The enemy maintained the pursuit, however, with the 
utmost gallantry, and, on reaching the bridge, threw parties of sharp- 
shooters into the neighboring houses, from the windows and balco- 
nies of which a continual fire was kept up on the Americans. 
Several desperate but unavailing attempts were made by the enemy 
to drive the guards from the bridge. The Americans, annoyed by the 
sharp-shooters, now opened with hot shot on the houses where these 
men had stationed themselves. Soon the fiery missives took eff'ect. 
Speedily several dwellings were in a blaze. Driven from their 
foothold here, the British fell back. Thus the afternoon wore 
away. As the dusk began to fall, the Americans retiring 
wholly across the bridge, tore up its planks, and formed breast 
works with them. Night settled down, but the battle raged 




ALEXANDER MACOMB. 189 

The roar of the artillery, the rattle of musketry, the whistling of the 
balls, and the occasional cheers of the combatants, rose up in awful 
discord, while the lurid appearance of the hot shot, and the conflag- 
ration that Ht up the sky when some fresh house took fire, added to 
the horrors of the scene. At last, the British drew off, and aban- 
doned all attempts to force a passage. Not only at the main bridge, 
but at one higher up, defended by militia, the foe had been repulsed, 
with heavy loss. 

When morning dawned, it was discovered that the enemy were 
throwing up intrenchments, and the spies soon brought in intelli- 
gence of the approach of his battering train. There was no fear, 
consequently, of an assault that day. Macomb employed the respite 
in sending off new couriers to raise the neighboring country-people. 
To his troops he spoke in grateful terms for the bravery they had 
shown, with the exception of some of the militia, on the preceding 
day, and on these latter, he said he was assured he should, 
on the next occasion, have nothing but praises to bestow. The 
volunteers from New York and Vermont, as well as the regular 
drafts of militia, came pouring into the camp. Macomb immedi- 
ately disposed them along the shores of the Saranac. Continual 
skirmishes occurred for the next four days, and more than once the 
British resumed their attempts to cross the bridges. As he had 
expected, Macomb now found the mihtia behaving with the utmost 
spirit. . Every day increased their confidence in themselves, while 
it diminished their dread of the enemy. The American General, aa 
soon as his reinforcements would permit, despatched a strong body 
in the rear of the British army, with orders to harass it day and 
night. Meantime, the regulars were kept assiduously at work on 
the intrenchments. The final trial of strength Macomb knew 
could not be very distant, for the enemy's fleet was hourly advanc- 
ing, and every moment a naval engagement might be expected, 
which would, necessarily, lead to an attack on land. 

The expected battle occurred on the 11th. Early on the morning 
of that day, the British squadron appeared in sight, and about nine 
o'clock, anchored within three hundred yards of the American 
fleet under McDonough, and commenced a brisk cannonade. Sim- 
ultaneously, the batteries of the enemy opened against Macomb's 
defences. The anxious eyes of his army were now called away 
from the rmval contest, to watch the demonstrations of their more 
immediate enemy on land. Three several times the British 
attempted to carry the American works. On the first occasion the 
assault was made at the village bridge, where it was promptly 



190 ALEXANDER MACOMB. 

repulsed by the regulars. Amid a tempest of balls and bombs, tne 
soldiers of the enemy were seen rushing to the attack, bearing innu- 
merable scaling ladders, and cheering as they came on. But, 
unappalled by the spectacle, the regulars stood firm, and delivered 
such well-aimed volleys, that the storming party fell back. A 
second attempt, made at the upper bridge, was also repulsed. 
The enemy now turned his attention towards a ford, about three 
miles from the works, hoping to find it unguarded, but here the militia 
lined the wooded shore of the stream, and under cover of the trees, 
poured in a destructive fire. Nevertheless, one company of the 
English army, stung with shame at being thus held in check by 
this irregular force, after the most desperate eff'orts, succeeded in 
crossing the stream. But the rest of their companions failing to 
follow, they were killed or taken prisoners, to a man. 

Throughout the whole day, the British maintained their cannon- 
ade on the American works. From nine o'clock until sunset, a 
continual roar of artillery, intermingled with the sharper reports of 
musketry, stunned the ears, and shook the solid ramparts. Round 
shot bounded around the works, rockets hissed through the sky, 
and bombs tore up the ground where the Americans stood ; while, 
for a part of the day, the sounds of the naval conflict boomed louder 
and louder across the water. At one point of the battle, it was 
thought that McDonough had surrendered. But when the smoke 
blew away, the American stars and stripes were still seen floating. 
At last the British struck. At this sight, a wild huzza rose up 
spontaneously, from the troops on shore. At dusk the enemy ceased 
his cannonade, destroyed his batteries, and secretly made prepara- 
tions for removing his baggage, a course rendered absolutely neces- 
sary by the unexpected destruction of his fleet. In the dead of the 
night, abandoning his sick and wounded, he began a precipitate 
retreat. The spoils of the Americans were immense. The English 
had retired eight miles before their flight was discovered. The pur- 
suit was then immediately begun, but a heavy storm prevented any 
fruits, except a few prisoners, who v/ere cut ofl" from the rear guard. 

For his conduct in this defence, Macomb was brevetted a Major- 
General. On the conclusion of peace, he remained in the army, and was 
appointed to the command of the north-western frontier. In 1821, 
he removed to Washington, as chiefof the corps of engineers. On the 
death of General Brown, Macomb became commander-in-chief of 
the army. His decease occurred at the capitol, June 25th, 1841, 





SAMUEL SMITH. 

AMUEL SMITH, a Major-Generai 
in the Maryland militia, claims a 
place in this gallery of portraits. It 
^ was his destiny to serve his country 
^ through two wars, and in each emi- 
% nently to distinguish himself. In tho 
'" Revolution, he held the rank of Lieu 
tenant-Colonel on the continental estab- 
^ lishment, and made the gallant defence 
^ of Fort Mifflin, one of the most brilUant 
'" affairs of the war. In the contest of 
^-=sm^^^^ 1812, hecommanded the Americanarmy 
afthe bat^^=, and proved that, though advanced tr 



192 



SAMUEL SMITH. 



years, he had lost none of the vigor and fire of his youth. He rsin 
a civil career also of great splendor. There are few men who have 
shone with more equal lustre, in all capacities, than General Samuel 
Smith, or who survived so long to behold the increasing greatness 
of the little republic for which they bled in youth. 

Smith was born in Lancaster county, Pennsylvania, on the 27th 
of July, 1752. His father, shortly after the birth of the son, removed 
to Carlisle, in the same state, and finally, in 1760,- settled in Baltimore. 
HeriB the elder Smith became a successful merchant. The son, having 
finished his education, at the age of fourteen was placed in his father's 
counting-room. He continued serving an apprenticeship here until 
his nineteenth year, when he was sent to Europe as supercargo in 
one of his father's vessels. He spent some time in travelling abroad, 
and on his return home, at the age of manhood, was taken into part- 
nership by his parent. But his bold and energetic mind was better 
adapted for the camp than the counting-house, and accordingly, when 
the War of Independence broke out, he solicitedand obtained a cap- 
taincy in the regiment of Colonel Smallwood. In that gallant band 
he was one of the most courageous. He rose rapidly to the rank 
of Major, and subsequently to that of Lieutenant-Colonel. In the 
latter capacity he won unfading laurels by his defence of Fort Mifflin, 
in 1777, holding the post for a space of seven weeks, against the 
combined land and naval forces of the enemy. His behavior on this 
occasion was so spirited, that Congress, by a resolution of the 4th 
of November, 1777, voted him a sword as some token of their 
approbation. Smith took part in the battle of Brandy wine ; endured 
the privations of Valley Forge ; and was subsequently present at 
Monmouth, the most fiercely contested combat in the north. On 
the conclusion of peace he retired to his adopted state. 
JUjII But he was not destined to remain in the private sphere to which 

'"^'' he had so unpretendingly retired. An insurrection had broken out 

m the western part of Pennsylvania, in consequence of the excise 
laws passed by the federal government ; and Washington, convinced 
that mercy consisted in sharp and speedy remedies, called out an 
imposing force in order to quell the rebellion. Among other states 
Maryland was called on for her quota of troops. At the head of 
these. Smith was placed, with the rank of Brigadier-General in the 
militia. The insurrection having been peaceably quelled, he once 
more retired to private life. His fellow citizens, however, did noi 
sufi'er him to remain unemployed. He had distinguished himself sa 
an ardent advocate of the federal constitution, and indeed had nr 
small share in procuring its adoption by Maryland : consequently ht 



SAMUEL SMITH. 193 

was now honored, by the city of BaUimore, with the post of repre- 
sentative in Congress, an office he continued to hold for many years. 
He was subsequently chosen United States Senator, and continued 
to be re-elected, for successive terms, during twenty-three years. In 
his legislative capacity he distinguished himself as eminently as 
formerly in military affairs. He was a close and logical debater; 
indefatigable in his duties; and a resolute, persevering and energetic 
advocate of whatever he undertook. His name is found connected 
with most of the great political measures of his day. 

When the threatened descent of the British on Baltimore took 
place, in September, 1814, he assumed command of the defence, by 
right of his rank as Major-General of the militia. His dispositions 
were admirable, both in his preparatory measures, and oii the two 
days of the conflict. In anticipation of the landing of the enemy, 
Smith detached General Strieker, on the 11th of September, towards 
North Point. The troops halted near the head of Bear Creek, seven 
miles from Baltimore, where they awaited during the night of the 
11th, further intelligence from the foe. On the following morning, 
the videttes brought in news that the British were landing, under 
cover of their gun-boats, near North Point. The Americans im- 
mediately took up a position at the union of two roads leading from 
the city to the Point; while an advance party, under Major Heath, 
was pushed forward to check the progress of the enemy's van. A 
skirmish in which General Ross, the British commander fell, was 
the result of this movement. Towards three o'clock in the afternoon, 
the enemy's advancing columns came in sight of the main body of 
our army, and, after a preliminary discharge of rockets, the action 
grew general and fierce along the whole line. For nearly an hour 
and a half General Strieker successfully maintained his ground ; but 
finally was forced to give way, and fell back to a new position. 
Half a mile in the rear of the spot where he now disposed his forces, 
was the line of intrenchments which had been drawn around the 
city : and the enemy, seeing this, considered it advisable to draw 
off his soldiers for the night. General Strieker was here reinforced 
by General Winder. Meantime other troops manned the intrench- 
ments, all resolute for the final struggle, which was expected on the 
morrow. 

Throughout the night, accordingly, there was but little sleep in 
the American camp, for many of those brave defenders had families 
in the city, and anxiety for their fate kept all watchful with suspense. 
The dawn at last came, and was ushered in by the sound of guns in 
the direction of Fort McHenry, where the British fleet had opened a 
XVII 14 



194 SAMUEL SMITH. 

bombardment. The land forces of the enemy were low in full view 
on the Philadelphia road, about a mile and a half ;n front of General 
Strieker's position ; and directly his masses were seen moving off to 
the right, as if with the design of making a circuit and assaulting the 
city on the York or Hartford roads. Smith promptly manoeuvred 
his forces to counteract this movement of the foe. Finding himself 
foiled, the British General concentrated his regiments in front, and 
advanced to within a mile of the intrenchments, as if with the 
intention of assaulting the works before night. This new disposition 
of the enemy led to a corresponding change in Smith's arrangements. 
He recalled Strieker and Winder, and placing them on the right of 
the British, held them ready to precipitate them on the flank or rear 
of the foe,' should an assault be made. Night fell, however, without 
any further demonstrations on the part of the enemy; and compara- 
tive silence gathered around the space between the two armies; 
though still, in the direction of Fort McHenry, the battle raged 
without intermission, bombs crossing and re-crossing, like wild 
portents, through the night. 

The attack on this fort had begun, as we have stated, at sunrise, 
on the 13th. The bomb-vessels of the British having advanced to 
within two miles of the place, anchored, on finding that their shells 
reached, and, for more than twenty-four hours, maintained an inces- 
sant fire. The garrison of Fort McHenry numbered about a thou- 
sand men, who were in the highest spirits, and prepared promptly 
to repel the attack of the enemy. Unfortunately, however, it was 
found that the range of their guns was too short to injure the foe, 
and of course the firing on their part was soon abandoned. All 
through that morning the Americans, compelled to inactivity, bore, 
without shrinking, one of the most tremendous bombardments that 
ever took place on this continent. An incessant shower of shells 
rained down on the fort, exploding often in the midst of the enclo- 
sures ; yet the men, though unprovided with bomb-proofs, remained 
courageously at their posts. Sometimes, as the hissing missile 
came whirling to the earth, it would be discovered that the fuse was 
not yet burned down ; and then, one of the boldest of the garrison 
would hastily extinguish it. At other times, as the shell buried 
itself in the ground, roaring ominously, the by-standers had no 
means of escape except to fling themselves flat on their faces, and 
suff'er the explosion to expend itself around them. At still other 
times, the bomb would burst in the air, just before reaching its des- 
tination, scattering its iron fragments among the soldiers of the fort, 
maiming and killing in every direction. 



SAMUEL SMITH. 195 

One of these missiles, about two o'clock, P. M., on the 13th, 
struck the carriage of a twenty-four pounder in the fort, dismount- 
ing the gun, killing a lieutenant, and wounding several men. The 
apparent confusion that reigned for awhile, induced the enemy to 
suppose that he had caused some fatal damage, when, in fact, the 
bustle was created by the endeavor to remount the gun. Deceived 
by this idea, the British grew more bold, advancing three of theii 
bomb-vessels closer to the works. No sight could have been more 
welcome to the Americans. Waiting until the ships had come 
within range, the garrison opened a well-aimed and rapid fire, which 
was the more severe in consequence of the inaction to which it 
had been compelled throughout the day. It was not long before the 
enemy was glad to retire to his old anchorage-ground. When the 
three vessels were thus seen in retreat, a cheer rose simuharieously 
from the main fort and from the two batteries beside it, which rose 
over all the noise of the bombardment, and dying off across the 
waters of the bay, was repeated again and again, until the heavens 
themselves seemed to tremble at the shout. 

Evening drew on. The silence from the shore showed that the 
land forces were quietly lying on their arms ; yet the fury of the 
assault on Fort McHenry was not intermitted, but rather increased. 
As quiet gathered around nature, the hissing of the shells became 
louder, and the pathways, through which the eye had followed them 
with difficulty all day, now grew luminous, like the track of shoot- 
ing stars. Soon the black arch of heaven was seamed, to and fro, 
by the trail of innumerable shells ; for, as the night advanced, the 
firing on the part of the enemy was redoubled. By the ghastly 
light flung across the landscape, two or three rocket-vessels and 
barges were discerned starting for the city, apparently loaded with 
scaling-ladders and men ; but the cannonade opened on them by the 
forts in the Patapsco, soon drove back the adventurous boats. Mid- 
night came, yet brought no cessation to the strife. As the night 
wore, many a heart beat with terrible anxiety, lest, on the dawn of 
day, the flag of America should be seen supplanted on the ramparts 
by that of Great Britain. Among others, there was one, a prisoner 
in the enemy's hands, who watched, through ten long hours of that 
terrible darkness, and who, when his eyes were greeted, at sunrise, 
by the sight of his country's ensign still waving over the fort, burst 
forth into exulting lyric, which will continue to be sung with enthu- 
siasm to the latest posterity. 

At seven o'clock, on the morning of the 14th, the bombardment 
ceased. During the night. Admiral Cochrane had communicated 



196 SAMUEL SMITH. 

with Colonel Brook, on whom the command of the land forces had 
devol\red ; and the result was, that the further prosecution of the 
enterprise was adjudged impracticable. Accordingly, the enemy 
immediately began a retreat. The bombardment, however, was 
still continued, in order to distract the attention of the Americans. 
The rain, which fell throughout most of the night, and rendered the 
darkness intense, assisted further to cover the retrogade movement ; 
and when it was discerned in the morning by our forces, the 
enemy had gained too great a distance to be pursued with any hopes 
of success, especially by troops exhausted by three days' marching 
and fighting. That evening the embarkation of the British began, 
from North Point, and was completed the next day, shortly after 
the hour of noon. The news of the final retirement of the enemy, 
was received with rapture in Baltimore, and heard throughout the 
country with the liveliest expressions of sympathetic joy. All now 
united to compliment the prudence, skill and energy of General 
Smith, while they did not forget also to remember the courage dis- 
played by his numerous subordinates. 

General Smith survived this battle for nearly twenty-five years. 
On one other occasion, it was reserved for him to play a prominent 
part. It was during the bank riots in Baltimore, in 1836. When 
the spirit of license and outrage had attained to such a height that 
neither life nor property were any longer safe ; when the public 
authorities were set at defiance, and the houses of the civic func- 
tionaries wantonly sacked, General Smith, as a last resort, though in 
his eighty-fourth year, placed himself at the head of such well- 
disposed citizens as were courageous enough to sustain him, ana 
issuing into the streets, carrying the flag of the United States, called 
on all friends of the laws to rally around him. The example of his 
grey hairs, the recollection of his many services, and the sight of 
the banner for which he had fought so frequently, thrilled the crowd 
with enthusiasm, aroused the dormant citizens to a sense of their 
duty, and struck dismay into the rioters. The law triumphed. 
There is no spectacle more grand than that of this aged veteran 
thus fearlessly risking his hfe against a lawless mob, to preserve 
those liberties, to gain which he had faced the armies of Great Bri- 
tain, sixty years before ! 

In October, 1836, in consequence of this act. General Smith was 
elected mayor' of Baltimore, almost unanimously. He held the 
office until near the period of his decease. On the 22d of April, 
1839 this aged soldier died ; one of the last, as well as best, of the 
men of the Revolution ! 




JACKSON AT THE BATTLE OF BMUCKFAD 



ANDREW JACKSON 



HERE never, perhaps, was a warrior of 
greater resolution than Jackson. He was a 
man, as Emraett -said, to burn every blade 
of grass before an enemy ; or, as the 
Prince of Orange even more heroically ex- 
pressed it, to die in the last ditch sooner than 
submit. He never trifled in great emergen- 
cies, never shrank from assuming the respon- 
sibility required by circumstances, but while 
others wasted precious moments in hesita- 
tation, acted, and wilh a terrible energy and 
promptitude, which appalled opposition. His determined will has 
passed into a proverb. Whatever he conceived to be right, that he 
fearlessly did, and would have attempted it, even if superhuman 
p3wers opposed him. He had the nerve of Cromwell, without his 
craft ; the headlong impetuosity of Murat, without his weakness ; the 




XVII 



197 



198 ANDREW JACKSON. 

desperate resolution and confidence in himself, which carried Na 
poleon from victory to victory. Frequently, his wilfulness degene- 
rated into obstinacy, while his impulsive character sometimes 
h'.irried him into excess. But, nevertheless, if honesty, patriotism, 
and unflinching adherence to conviction, constitute the hero, then 
was Jackson one in the highest and fullest sense of that term. 

It was his terrible firmness of purpose, more than his skill in 
tactics, which made him so uniformly successful in war. He pos- 
sessed a tenacity that nothing could overcome. He would have 
stood up in single combat, and suffered himself to be hacked, piece- 
meal, but never surrendered. In an unsuccessful campaign, he 
would have struggled long after hope had left every other bosom, 
and then ravaged the line of his retreat with fire and sword, to 
harass his pursuers. It is now known that, if he had been defeated 
at New Orleans, he would have burned the city. His conduct in the 
Semhiole campaign of 1818, when he crossed the Spanish frontier, 
and hung two Englishmen who had fomented the disturbances, is 
another illustration of this point in his character. One less familiar, 
but equally striking, is his refusal to disband the volunteers under 
his command in 1812, when they were at a distance from home, and 
many of them sick, marching them back at the expense of the United 
States, and in direct opposition to orders from Washington. His 
political career furnishes numerous instances of this indomitable 
will. In short, he was inflexible in his own opinion, whether in 
military or civil life. Those who thought with him in politics, con- 
sidered him on this account, a hero ; those who d'ifl'ered with him, 
and party violence never raged greater than in his day, regarded 
him as perversely obstinate. To posterity must be left the task of 
deciding between the two". But all men agree that this firmness was 
invaluable in war, and that America has seen few Generals who 
can compete with the hero of New Orleans. 

Andrew Jackson was born at the Waxhaw settlement, South 
Carolina, on the 15th of March, 1767. His parents had emigrated 
from Ireland only two years before. The father died soon after the 
birth of the son. His mother, though in narrow pecuniary circum- 
stances, aspired to educate her orphan boy to be a minister of the 
gospel ; and, with this purpose in view, placed him at an academy, 
where he continued until the approach of the British army into the 
vicinity, induced him to assume arms. This was in 1781, when Jackson 
was only fourteen. He was soon taken prisoner, as well as an oldei 
brother, and both were cruelly maltreated by their captors, the 
brother especially so, for he died of his injuries shortly after being 



ANDREW JACKSON. 19;* 

exchanged. The life of Andrew was only saved by receiving on 
his hand the blow intended for his head. The mother soon followed 
her son to the grave, and Andrew became sole heir of the small 
family estate. He now abandoned all thoughts of the ministry, and 
began to study law at Salisbury, North Carolina. In 1786, he was 
admitted to the bar. Two years after, actuated by that ambition 
which even then carried so many ardent spirits westward, he removed 
to Nashville, at that time a new settlement on the frontier of North 
Carolina. 

In 1790, what is now the state of Tennessee was organized into 
a territory, and Jackson received the appointment of United States 
Attorney. From this period he played a prominent part in the 
politics of the district. When the territory was erected into a state, 
in 1796, he was a leading member in the convention to frame a con- 
stitution. His professional career was attended with much success. 
He was even more distinguished, however, in the continual skir- 
mishes with the savages, that took place on that exposed frontier ; 
and the Indians, in compliment to his courage and skill, called him 
" the Sharp Knife,'^ and the " Pointed Arrow." On the adoption of 
the state constitution, he was chosen a representative to Congress, 
and in the succeeding year, a United States Senator. He disliked 
the intrigues of politics, however, and, after one session, resigned his 
seat. He was now appointed a judge of the Supreme Court of Ten- 
nessee, but this honorable office also, he soon threw up. Retiring 
to a farm which he had purchased on the Cumberland river, in the 
vicinity of Nashville, he continued to reside there, declining all civil 
employments until the war of 1812 broke out. 

This contest found Jackson a Major-General of the mihtia. His 
ambition was decidedly military, and though he had refused all 
ordinary offices, he now sought the commission of a Brigadier- 
General in the army of the United States. His competitor, Win- 
chester, triumphed over him ; but Jackson was not left without 
employment, being sent with nearly three thousand volunteers to 
Natchez, to guard that frontier against an apprehended visit of the 
Indians. The threatened tempest, however, blew over, and Jackson 
was ordered by the Secretary of War to disband his troops on the 
spot. This he refused to do, alleging, that as they were far from 
home, without funds, and many of them sick, such a proceeding 
would be unjust. He consequently kept them together, and led 
them back to Tennessee, where he disbanded them. The govern- 
ment accepted the explanation. In the autumn of 1813, he again 
took the fields at the head of one of the two divisions of Tennessee 



200 ANDREW JACKSON. 

militia, called out to chastise the Creeks, in Georgia, and avenge 
the massacre at Fort Minims. 

Accordingly, on the 2d of November, Jackson detached Brigadier- 
General Coffee on an expedition against Tallushatchee, which was 
completely successful, and a few days after, followed it up in person, 
by the great battle of Talledega, in which over three hundred of the 
Creeks fell. From this period, until the middle of January, 1814, 
he remained comparatively idle, in consequence of the term of most 
of his troops having expired, though, meantime, the campaign was 
prosecuted with considerable success, by Generals Cocke, Clairborne, 
Floyd, and others, at the head of different detachments. At last, on 
the 14th of January, Jackson was joined at Fort Strother by 
eight hundred fresh volunteers from Tennessee. His force 
was, by this, raised to nine hundred and thirty, exclusive of Indians. 
He immediately began offensive operations. On the 20th, while 
advancing into the heart of the enemy's country, he was joined by 
two hundred friendly Indians. On the 22d, he was attacked in his 
temporary camp at Tallapoosa, by a superior force of savages, who 
were, however, beaten off after a desperate struggle. The scarcity 
of supplies, and the number of his wounded, induced Jackson, on the 
following morning, to commence a retrograde movement towards 
Fort Strother. On the second day of his retreat he was attacked 
by the savages at Enotachopco creek, and, at first, owing to the 
flight of a portion of his troops, the Indians gained some advantage, 
but the regulars manfully standing their ground, the enemy was 
finally repulsed, with a loss of over two hundred of his warriors. 
The Americans were now permitted to prosecute their way without 
further molestation. 

On the 24th of March, Jackson having been reinforced, once more 
marched into the heart of the Creek country. On the 27th, he had 
reached Horse-Shoe Bend, on the Tallapoosa, three miles beyand the 
spot where the fight of the 22d of January had occurred. Here, as 
the name implies, the river makes a curvature, and in the bend thus 
formed, the Indians had collected for a last desperate stand, fortifying 
the neck of land which led into their retreat, by a breastwork nearly 
eight feet in height, pierced with double rows of port-holes, and so 
constructed that no enemy could approach without being subjected 
to a double and cross fire. Jackson's first care was to line the oppo- 
site side of the river, so as to prevent the escape of the savages. He 
then advanced boldly to the attack of the intrenchments in front. 
The friendly Indians stationed on the banks, becoming warned of 
the battle, crossed over to the peni' sula, and drove the Creeks 



ANDREW JACKSON. 20\ 

into their fortifications. But failing to dislodge them from their 
works, Jackson, after ordering General Coffee's detachment to guard 
the banks, in place of the Indians, advanced to the storm. The 
troops, who had waited impatiently for this movement, received the 
*ommand with loud shouts of joy. The struggle, for a few minutes, 
was awful. The hostile savages fought with the rage of wounded 
tigers, firing rapidly, and with deadly aim, through the port-holes ; 
while the Americans, advancing to the breastwork, struggled, 
muzzle to muzzle, in many cases the balls of the Indians being 
welded on the bayonets of the assailants. At last the intrenchments 
were carried. And now the rout and slaughter became fearful. 
Scarcely twenty of the foe escaped unhurt. Three hundred were 
taken prisoners. Five hundred and fifty-seven dead bodies were 
found, among them that of Manahoee, the great prophet of the 
Creeks. The loss on Jackson's side, was forty-nine killed, and one 
hundred and fifty-four wounded. From that hour, the proud heart 
of the Creeks was broken. They never again lifted the hatchet 
against the United States, but on the 1st of August, sent their prin- 
cipal chiefs to Fort Jackson to sue for peace. 

This treaty had scarcely been completed, however, before the 
attention of Jackson was required to avert a greater danger. He 
had, after adjusting the Creek difficulties, fixed his head quarters 
at Mobile, and here, on the 27th of August, he received intelligence 
that three British vessels had arrived at Pensacola two days before, 
and after disembarking a large quantity of provisions and munitions 
of war, had placed a garrison of between two and three hundred 
troops in the fort. The express which brought this startling infor- 
mation, also announced that thirteen sail of the line, with ten thou- 
sand troops, and the requisite number of transports, were daily 
expected. On the receipt of this.news, Jackson despatched a courier 
to the Governor of Tennessee, requesting that the whole quota of 
the militia of that state should be at once brought into the field. On 
the 15th of September, the British squadron from Pensacola, 
augmented by another ship, made an attack on Fort Bowyer, at the 
foot of Mobile bay, thirty miles below the town of the same name, 
where Jackson was established ; but they were repulsed with a 
slaughter almost unprecedented in the annals of war, one of the 
ships losing one hundred and forty-nine men, out of a crew of one 
hundred and seventy. Having received an accession of force from 
Tennessee, amounting to nearly two thousand, Jackson marched to 
chastise the Spanish Governor of Pensacola, forallowing the British to 
fit out hostile expeditionsin thatport. He stormed one ofthe batteries of 
the town on the 7th of November, on which the Governor surren- 

26 



202 ANDREW JACKSON. 

dered the city and fort unconditionally. On this, the British squadron, 
consisting of seven armed vessels, sailed from the harbor. Having 
completed his object, Jackson now hurried to New Orleans, that 
place being threatened by a formidable expedition which had jus! 
sailed from Jamaica, with the motto of "beauty and booty," to 
stimulate the soldiers : an expedition, forming one of a series begun 
with the express intent, as Admiral Cochrane had officially declared, 
*•' to lay waste all towns and districts of the United States found 
accessible to the attack of British armaments." 

Jackson reached New Orleans on the 2d of December, and imme- 
diately began to place it in a condition of defence. It is well knowi. 
that innumerable channels intersect the delta of the Mississippi, 
below the town. Few of these were properly fortified; and, in con- 
sequence, the alarm was general. Discontent, too, was abroad. 
The city corps had refused to turn out. Spies daily left the city to 
bear information to the enemy, yet the legislature hesitated to sus- 
pend the habeas corpus act. In this crisis. General Jackson acted 
with an energy, which, however despotic it seemed to its victims, 
probably saved the town. He proclaimed martial law, and laid an 
embargo on all vessels in the harbor, thus cutting ofi" treasonable 
communication with the enemy. He called out the militia, en masse. 
He impressed the negroes to assist in the defence. A characteristic 
anecdote will show the vigor and promptitude with which he acted. 
He haid taken the cotton of a merchant to use upon the lines, when 
ihe owner, indignant at this appropriation of his property, called at 
head-quarters to remonstrate. Jackson heard the complaint in 
silence. " All wrong, very wrong, as you say," he remarked in 
his impetuous manner, when the man had closed : " tell that sentry 
to walk in." The merchant, fancying he was about to have resti- 
tution, hurried to obey, and the sentry appeared. " Give that man 
your musket," said Jackson, addressing the soldier, and pointing to 
the merchant : then, turning to the astonished trader, he said sternly, 
" now sir, I will make affairs right — march down to the lines and 
defend your property." Arbitrary as such conduct appeared to the 
listener, it was, perhaps, necessary to the salvation of the city. It 
was a crisis when not only men's property, but their lives belonged 
no longer to themselves, but to the state. 

The British appeared off the mouth of the Mississippi on the 5th 
of December, only three days after the arrival of Jackson at New 
Orleans. One of those circumstances, which appear fortuitous, but 
which are, perhaps, ordained by a protecting Providence, had delayed 
the sailing of the expedition from Jamaica for ten days, and thus, by 
aifording time for Jackson's arrival, saved the city. The occurrence, 



ANDREW JACKSON. 203 

not generally known, was this. The fleet of Cochrane, with the 
troops of Packenham were at Jamaica, ready for the expedition, 
except that they were ordered to wait the arrival of a squadron 
from England under Captain Floyd. This squadron had reached 
the port of Fayal, as early as the 26th of September, but finding an 
American privateer, the General Armstrong, in the harbor, had 
determined to capture her. Two several attacks, however, were 
made on the Armstrong without success : the first by three boats, 
the last by sixteen. In these struggles the British lost two hundred 
of their best men. Finding that a third attack, still more imposing, 
was to be made, Captain Reid of the Armstrong scuttled and aban- 
doned her, taking refuge on shore under the Portuguese authorities. 
This assault was made in defiance of the sanctity of a neutral port; 
and when the commandant at Fayal remonstrated against the attack, 
he was told that if he attempted to protect the Armstrong, the British 
would fire on the town. No more spirited defence, than that of this 
little privateer, is recorded in the whole annals of naval history. 
But its greatest merit, though one little suspected at the time, was 
that, by causing a delay of ten days on the part of Captain Floyd, 
it protracted for just that period, his arrival at Jamaica, and the 
sailing of the fleet. If the squadron had not been detained at Fayal 
by the Armstrong, it is almost certain that the British would have 
arrived oft' the Mississippi on the 25th of November. At that period 
Jackson had not reached New Orleans, and, as no adequate measures 
were being taken for its defence, the place must have fallen before 
he made his appearance on the 2d of December. 

The British had taken the precaution to make themselves tho- 
roughly acquainted with the topography of the coast, and discovering 
that the routes through Lakes Ponchartrain and Borgue were the 
most assailable means of access to the city, they resolved to lose no 
time in needless delays, but push on at once to the object of their 
desires. An unexpected difficulty, however, soon presented itself in 
a flotilla of American gun- boats, which had been sent to defend 
these passes. A sharp action ensued, in which the enemy, after a 
heavy loss, came off" victorious. No obstacle now existing to their 
landing, the troops were disembarked on Pea Island, where some Spa- 
nish fishermen speedily betrayed that the pass of Bienvenu was as yet 
unguarded, and that a vigorous movement of five or six hours made 
from this point, would carry the assailants to the heart of New 
Orleans. AvaiUng themselves of this information, a strong force 
was immediately transported across the river, and before noon or 
the 22d took up a position on Vivery's canal. 



204 ANDREW JACKSON. 

It was at this spot, scarcely nine miles distant from the city, that 
a part of Jackson's staff accidentally discovered the enemy. The 
news spread consternation through the town. But, meantime, the 
American commander had been reinforced by four thousand Ten- 
nessee militia, and by the Baratarians, a body of half piratical men, 
inhabiting some islands on the coast, to whom an amnesty had been 
granted on the condition that they joined in the defence of New 
Orleans. Accordingly, leaving a force to guard the avenues to the 
city in his rear, Jackson marched out to assail the British with all his 
available troops, amounting to fifteen hundred men. His intention 
was to make a night attack on the front and flanks of the enemy ; 
but the plan failing in several important particulars, he ordered a 
retreat, and fell back, after a doubtful engagement, to a narrow 
plain on the road to New Orleans, flanked on the right by the Mis- 
sissippi, and on the left by an impregnable cypress swamp. The 
alacrity, however, with which he offered in this early stage to meet 
the foe, inspired his army with resolution and checked the ardor of 
the enemy ! 

It had been the intention of General Jackson to march out into 
the open field, and renew the engagement in the morning, but sub- 
sequent reflection on the inferiority of his force induced him to 
resolve on a strictly defensive system. Accordingly, he began for- 
tifying his position with incredible alacrity. A ditch dug for agri- 
cultural purposes, ran along his front from the river to the swamp ; 
it was only left for him, therefore, to throw up an intrenchment and 
erect flanking batteries. Bales of cotton were successfully employed 
for this purpose. Bastions were hastily constructed and mounted 
with heavy cannon, to enfilade the whole front. To render the 
position still more secure a battery of twenty guns, flanking the length 
of the parapet, was erected on the opposite bank of the Mississippi, 
and committed to the charge of Commodore Patterson of the navy, 
and a body of militia. 

The English force Avas under the command of Sir Edv/ard Pack- 
enham, a brave and veteran soldier. This General at first deter- 
mined to make regular approaches to the works ; but having failed 
in the attempt, in consequence of the superior weight of the Ameri 
can artillery, he resolved, with the inipetuous hardihood he had 
acquired in the Peninsular war, to carry the hitrenchments by 
assault, and thus put an end at once to the affair. With troops fresh 
from the Spanish campaigns, he did not doubt of complete suc- 
cess against the raw levies of which lii^' spies informed him the force 
of General Jackson was entirely coni|'t)sed. ile neglected, however 



ANDREW JACKSON. 205 

no advantage which strategy could give him ; for he employed his 
men in secretly widening the canal behind his army, by which boats 
might be brought up to the Mississippi, and troops ferried across to 
carry the battery we have spoken of, on the right bank of the river, 
so as to prevent the assaihng columns from being raked by its fire, 
as they moved to attack the parapet. 

These preparations having all been completed by the night of the 
7th of January, Packenham determined on an assault before day- 
break of the ensuing day. Colonel Thornton, with about fourteen 
hundred men, was to cross over by night to the western bank of the 
Mississippi, and, storming the battery there, proceed up the river 
until he came opposite to New Orleans. Meantime, the main attack 
on the intrenchments on the eastern bank was confided to two co- 
lumns ; the first led by General Gibbs, the second by General Keane. 
The reserve was commanded by General Lambert. Having made 
these dispositions, the soldiers were allowed some rest ; but many an 
eye refused to sleep ; and the sentry, as he Avalked his rounds, dreamed 
of past victories, or anticipated the morrow's glory. In the American 
camp all w^as still. The night was unusually cold, and sounds were 
distinguishable for a long distance ; but nothing was heard from the 
British position, except an occasional murmur rising and falling on 
the night wind. 

Various delays occurred on the part of the enemy, to prevent 
Colonel Thornton from reaching his destination in time; and the 
night passed without Packenham receiving the expected news of his 
success. At length, that General became impatient, and, toward? 
five o'clock, ordered the assault. Gibbs's column advfanced first to 
the attack. But the wintry dawn had now begun to break, and the 
Americans, amid a storm of bombs and Congreve rockets, suddenly 
beheld the dark masses of the enem)^, at the distance of nine hun- 
dred yards, moving rapidly across the plain. Instantly a tremen- 
dous fire was opened on them from the batteries. But the veterans 
of the 4th and 21st regiments, undaunted by the danger, pressed 
steadily forward. When they came within reach of the musketry 
of the militia, the crash of fire-arms joined its sharp explosions to 
the deep roar of the artillery, and burst after burst rolled oif across 
the plain, resembling incessant and tremendous peals of thunder. 
Yet that splendid British infantry never flinched. The fire from the 
ramparts, like a stream of burning lava, now filled the intervening 
space ; but still undaunted, these veterans pushed on, closing up 
their front as one after another fell, and only pausing when they 
eached the snppery edge of the glacis. 

XVIII 



206 ANDREW JACKSON. 

Here it was found that the scaling-ladders and fascines had been 
forgotten, and a halt occurred, until they could be sent for and 
brought up. All this time, the deadly rifles of the Americans were 
aimed at the British ranks, which soon, riddled through and through, 
fell back in disorder from the foot of the parapet. Seeing the con- 
fusion, Packenham himself galloped up. Dashing immediately to 
the head of the 44th regiment, he rallied the men, and led them to 
the foot of the glacis, his head. uncovered, himself cheering them 
on. While in this very act, a ball struck him, and he fell mortally 
wounded. Appalled by this sight, his troops once more recoiled ; 
but their ofl&cers, reminding them of past glories; again brought 
them up to the attack; and, with desperate but unavailing courage, 
Ihey strove to force their way over the ditch and up the fatal 
intrenchments. Quick and close, however, the rifles of the Ameri- 
cans met them at every turn. Again they recoiled. General Gibbs, 
who had succeeded Packenham, was struck down. But the reserve 
was now in full advance ; and, notwithstanding the tempest of grape 
and shell which swept the plain, it continued to press on, led by the 
gaUant Keane. Soon he, too, fell. But the regiment he led was a 
thousand strong, and composed wholly of Sutherland Highlanders. 
It had faced death in many a battle-field before. Burning to avenge 
the fall of three commanders in succession, it rushed on with inex- 
tinguishable fury, forcing the leading files before it, until the slope 
of the glacis was gained ; and here, though destitute of fascines or 
ladders, the men still pressed on, mounting on each others shoulders 
to gain a foothold in the works, where they fought with the ferocity 
of frantic Uons, mad with rage and despair. Few of them, how- 
ever, reached this point ; for the rifles of the defenders cut them off 
almost to a man, before they crossed the ditch, and those who clam- 
bered up the intrenchments, were bayoneted as they appeared. In 
the midst of this terrific carnage, an oflicer on a white horse was 
seen dashing to the glacis. He fell, pierced by a ball, just as he 
reached the edge ; but the noble animal, plunging headlong for- 
ward, over the wounded and the dead, crossed the ditch, leaped the 
intrenchments with one wild bound, and stood trembling in every 
limb, in the very heart of the American forces. The gallant animal 
was taken care of, and subsequently became a favorite with the 
soldiers. 

Thrice the enemy advanced to the assault ; thrice he was hurled 
back in wild disorder. Nothing could withstand the terrific fire of 
the Americans. The plain was already encumbered with nearly 
two thousand dead and wounded, and, as fast as the heads of 



AJMIREW JACKSON. 207 

columns appeared, they melted away before the grape-shot. On 
the left, some companies, which at first had penetrated to an unfi- 
nished intrenchment, were fast disappearing beneath the murderous 
cannonade. At places where the fiercest struggles had been made, 
the dead were piled in heaps. The fearful carnage of that day 
brought to many a mind the slaughter of the forlorn hope at Bada- 
joz ; and the British officer, who had succeeded to the command, 
almost gave way to audible lamentations, when he saw the full ex- 
tent of the carnage. 

The utter ruin of the enemy's army would have followed, but for 
the success of Colonel Thornton, on the right bank of the river. 
Jackson was forced, in consequence of this, to turn his attention in 
that direction ; and preparations were accordingly made to dislodge 
the foe from his captured position. Before, however, any move- 
ment was made, Thornton was withdrawn from the works, the 
British General not considering himself able to spare sufficient troops, 
after his severe losses, to hold it. Jackson hastened to regain the 
lost battery. The enemy now fell back to his old station, where he 
temained until the 18th, although continually annoyed by the artillery 
of the Americans, on both sides of the river. But, at midnight of 
that day, he precipitately retreated, and, regaining his boats, em- 
barked finally on board the shipping. The difficulties of a pursuit 
were so great, from the nature of the ground and other causes, that 
Jackson did not attempt seriously to harass the retreat. A few pri- 
soners were taken, and several transports captured. Thus was 
repelled an expedition, consisting of eleven thousand land troops, 
and four thousand seamen and marines ; and which had been so 
confident of success, that it was accompanied by custom-house and 
other civil functionaries. 

For this brilliant victory, Jackson received the thanks of Congress 
and a gold medal. In 1818, he was entrusted with the command 
of the troops destined to operate against the Seminoles. His usual 
energy characterised him in this war. He penetrated into Florida, 
to the villages of the savages and fugitive slaves who had joined 
them, devastating their settlements, and carrying fire and sword 
through all their region. Discovering that the Indians had been 
supplied with arms and ammunition from the Spanish posts in the 
vicinity, he seized these places, and executed two British subjects 
whom he found there, engaged in this lawless traffic. The contest 
was closed by the conquest of Florida. The posts taken by Jackson 
were, however, subsequently restored to Spain ; but an attempt, in 
Congress, to pass a vote of censure on the General, was defeated by 



ill 



208 



ANDREW JACKSOir. 




a large majority. There can be no doubt, nevertheless, that thu 
seizure of these posts was a violation of a neutral soil, though, per 
haps, justified by the emergency of the case, if not by the secret 
assistance rendered to the Indians by Spain. In 1821, by the pur- 
chase of Florida, the United States rendered any such arbitrary 
measures, for the future, unnecessary. Jackson was now appointed 
Governor of the new territory. But he did not long retain this office, 
resigning it in the following year, and retiring to his farm. 

In 1823, he was elected to the Senate of the United States; but, 
soon after, becoming a prominent candidate for the presidency, va- 
cated his seat. In the electoral college, for 1824, he received ninety- 
nine votes ; Mr. Adams, eighty-four ; Mr. Crawford, forty-one ; and 
Mr. Clay, thirty-seven. The election of a President consequently 
devolved on the House, when Mr. Adams was chosen. In 1828 
however, being again a candidate, he received one hundred and 
seventy-eight electoral votes, while Mr. Adams obtained but eighty- 
three. The history of his administration does not come within the 
scope of this work. In 1832, he was again elected President by a 
majority of one hundred and seventy electoral votes over his antago- 
nist, Mr. Clay. In 1836, he retired to private life. 

From this period to that of his death, he resided on his farm, 
which he called " The Hermitage," near Nashville, Tennessee. He 
gradually became enfeebled in body, but retained his mental facul- 
ties in full force. A few years before his decease, he connected him- 
self with the Presbyterian church ; in the communion of which he 
continued, from that hour, a sincere and exemplary member. He 
died on the 8th of -Tune, 1845, 




^ili 




©1H= @njflTraAKi» 



^3^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^::^^ 



// 



THE 



MILITARY HEROES 



J» 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO 



WITH i 



NARRATIVE OF THE WAR. 



BY CHARLES J. PETERSON. 



TENTH EDITION. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED BY JAMES B. SMITH & CO., 

No. 27 SOUTH SEVENTH STKEET. 
1860. 



•7 



according to Act of (Congress, in the year 1852, liy 
J. & J. L. GIHON, 
L tile Gerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylyania, 



V 



MAJOR-GENERAL ZACHARY TAYLOR 

THIS WORE IS 

RESPECTFUILT DEDICATEr 
BY THE AUTHOR. 




TUK aiEXICANS WATCHING A TRAIN OF ARMY WAGONS, 



PREFACE 



In tne following pages, the author has deviated in a mea 
sure from the plan heretofore pursued. The descriptions of 
the battles, instead of being reserved for the appropriate bio- 
graphies, are inserted in the history ; while the history itself 
is confined almost entirely to the military transactions of thi: 
war. It must be reserved for another age to write an impar- 
tial story of this contest, and to assign to each hero his due 
place ! 

History is of necessity imitative; and hence the author 
has drawn largely from the journals, &c., which have been 
written on the spot. In no instance, however, that he is aware 
of, has the language of his authorities been used, or any 
improper liberty been taken with them. 



M- 



VI PREFACE. 



The author has geneially confined himself to a plain bio- 
graphy of the Heroes of the Mexican War, leaving their relar 
tive merits to be assigned by the official correspondence of 
the Commander-in-chief. The reasons for this are obvious. 
A cotemporary is peculiarly liable to be charged v^^ith preju- 
dice : to posterity only is it reserved to speak of public cha- 
racters without the imputation of unfairness. The author 
has not, on all occasions, forborne the expression of his own 
opinion: this would be alike impossible and ridiculous. But 
as these opinions may be changed by testimony not yet 
brought to light, they are given with diffidence. 

It has been thought advisable to insert, in the biographies 
of Scott, Taylor, and Doniphan, a specimen of their de- 
spatches, and those have been selected which, in the author's 
opinion, relate to the most brilliant event in the life of each. 

For the unusual kindness with which his first volume was 
received by the public, the author takes this occasion to ex 
press his gratification. 





CONTENTS. 



Preface, - - - - - - Page 5. 

THE AVAR WITH MEXICO. 

Preliminary Chapter, - - - • - 15 

Book I.— The Origin of the War, ... 19 

Book II. — Campaign on the Rio Grande, - - - 35 

Book III. — Conquest of New Mexico and California, - 63 

Book IV. — Advance on the Capital, - - - 79 

Book V.— The FaU of the Capital, - - - 107 



THE HEROES OF THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

Zachary Taylor, - - - - 

Samuel Ringgold, 

Charles May, - - - - 

William 0. Butler, - - 

« 

William J. Worth, - - - 



137 
161 
165 
169 
177 



Yll 



nil 



CONTENTS. 



John E. Wool, 

Stephen W. Kearney, - 

John C. Fremont, 

A. W. Doniphan, 

Samuel H. Walker, 

WiNFiELD Scott, 

David E. Twiggs, 
Joseph G. Totten, 
Robert Patterson, - 
Persifer F. Smith, 
James Shields, 
James Duncan, - 
Bennet Riley, 
John k. Quitman, 
Joseph Lane, - - . 

Gideon J. Pillow, 
George Cadwalader, 
William S. Harney, 
Franklin Pierce, 
Roger Jones, 



- Page 189 
195 
199 
203 
209 
211 
231 
237 
239 
241 
245 
249 
253 
257 
263 
267 
269 
275 
279 
281 





#/ra 



M. B 



iil^ 



a 




THE CITY OF KSTiCO. 



PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 



HE war of Independence gave the 
United States a political existence 
The war of 1812 enfranchised the 
popular mind from a state of colonial 
subserviency. The war with Mexico 
has developed the military genius of 
our people., inspired confidence in oui 
capacity to resist invasion, and elevated 
the republic to a position in European 
eyes which a century of prosperity in 
the arts of peace would not have obtained for it. Indeed, there are 
few parallels in modern history to the campaigns of Taylor and 
Scott ! That a comparatively small body of men should penetrate 
into the heart of a mighty empire, and defeat, in a dozen pitched 
battles, an enemy always fourfold its own numbers, is one of those 
events which at first appear to border on the miraculous, and which 
recall the memory of the days when the Emirs conquered Spain, 

15 




16 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



if I 



I 



'^ 



when Gaul fell beneath the inroad of the Turks, when the Persian 
empii-e was shattered by the spear of Alexander. 

Hitherto the enterprise of Cortez, by which the Aztec monarchy 
was overthrown, has been considered the most wonderful event ' 
recorded in authentic history. But Cortez marched on Mexico with 
an army clad in mail, and possessed of fire-arms ; while the Indians 
had no weapons but arrows and obsidian hatchets. Hence the , 
Spanish soldier, especially the mounted one, could fight with com- 
paratively little peril, until he actually fell from exhaustion. The 
number of kihed and wounded in the battles of Cortez was generally 
not over a dozen, while the slaughter on the side of the Aztecs was 
enormous. The victories of the conqueror were not so miraculous 
as at first appears. A compact body of mailed soldiers may /be 
assailed by fifty times their number, but not by all at once ! ' If the 
assailed present a front of five hundred men, only five hundred men 
can attack at, the same time. Defeat these five hundred, and five 
hundred more may rush to the assault. But these, too, must soon 
fall ; for if the one party is defended by armor, rendering them im- 
pervious to the shafts of the foe, the contest, it is apparent, is all on 
one side ; and the chances are, that the assailants will be wearied 
out first. The battles of Cortez were of this description. When 
attacked by overwhelming odds, he always seized some defile 
where the Aztecs could only advance in front. Hence, though ten 
times his own number were in the field against him, he rarely was 
engaged at any one moment with more than an equal force. More- 
over, he generally had from five to ten thousand Tlascalan allies to 
harass the wings of the foe. 

But our battles in Mexico were different. The enemy was in a 
comparatively high state of civilization, possessed fire-arms like our- 
selves, had able and experienced Generals, was in a country full of 
impregnable positions, and availed himself of all the aids of military 
discipline and strategetic science in the formation and management 
of hiii army. The war was not a contest between European veterans 
and savages ; it was a war between raw volunteers and a well drilled 
army. It was a war against the very troops which drove the Spanish 
infantry out of Mexico. Yet everywhere we were triumphant. Our* 
little army assaulted the foe on the open field, stormed him in his 
streets, and carried intrenchments defended by artillery. In a word, 
search where we will in military history since the invention of fire- 
arms, and we find nothing to surpass the achievements of Taylor, 
Scott, and Doniphan. 

These wonderful victories are to be attributed in part to the iiife- 






PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 17 

I 

rior material of the enemy's army. The Mexican Creole is but a 
degenerate Spaniard, inheriting few of the virtues and magnifying 
the vices of his ancRstry. When Napoleon first invaded Spain, the 
rout of her armies was almost as complete as that of the Mexicans 
in this war; nor was it until the British arrived under Wellington, 
and formed a nucleus for valor and discipline, that any successful 
resistance was made to the imperial eagles. The history of the 
pitched battles in this war has not differed materially from the his- 
tory of the pitched battles of every war in which the Spanish blood 
has been engaged from the time of the Carthaginians down. 
Whether the Iberians, the aboriginal inhabitants of the Peninsula, 
were of mixed Arab lineage, as some writers suppose, or were de- 
scended from the Gothic nations of the north, as is conjectured with 
slighter probability, certain it is that their characteristics have suffer- 
ed less change in the last two thousand years than those of any other 
surviving people, and that, to this day, they possess the same powers 
of dissimulation, the same love for desultory warfare, and the same 
obstinacy of purpose which baffled Hannibal and Scipio alike. Suc- 
cessive invasions of Romans, Goths, and Moors have failed to per- 
manently alter this original stock. Indeed, partial infusions of new 
races, like partial infusions of blood in the veins, though they may 
renovate for awhile, cannot change the constitutional tendencies of 
a people. A hundred thousand Franks subdued ten millions of Gauls, 
and held them in vassalage for ten centuries ; but the French popu- 
lace is the same now as in the time of Csesar. A conquered people 
must be exterminated, or their peculiarities, in time, will infect even 
their conquerors: of the truth of this remark Saxon England, Celtic 
Ireland, and modern Italy are forcible illustrations. Like flakes of 
snow falling into the ocean, the victors are soon lost in the surround- 
ing mass. 

There is more in race than is generally supposed. Of the five 
great divisions into which the human family is separated, the infe- 
rior species have never permanently, rarely even temporarily tri- 
umphed over the superior ones. The Mongolian has never been 
subdued by the Malay, nor the Malay by the African ; but both 
have been, at various periods, the slaves of the Caucasian. As there 
are different races of mankind, so there are different varieties of the 
same race. The Caucasian stock has proved itself superior to all 
otheis; but of the Caucasian the northern branches are better than 
the southern. In every collision between the Romaic and Teutonic 
stocks, the latter has proved too strong for the former. The one, 
supple and wily, is well represented by Saladin in the novel of Scott ; 

M—B^ 15 



18 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



tile other, triumphing by sheer strength, has its type in his antago- 
nist, Richard ! 

These characteristics of race are transmissible from generation id 
generation, exactly as physical quahties are transmissible in ani- 
mals of a lesser grade than man. The Tartar of to-day is the same 
individual described by Oriental writers thousands of years ago, and 
displays similar attributes whether roaming in the desert or seated 
on a conquered throne. The Greek of the nineteenth century differs 
less from the Greek of the time of Socrates, than does the language 
he now speaks from the pure Attic of Pericles. The German as 
described by Tacitus in the second century of the Christian era, is 
the exact counterpart of the German now, allowing for slight differ- 
ences produced by an advanced stage of civilization. The Sclave, 
or Russian, has remained unaltered since the dawn of the historic 
period. Even in their mode of waging warfare, the peculiarities of 
nations rarely change. The Persian wheels his horse and flings his 
javelin, exactly as his Parthian ancestor when making head against 
the legions of Rome. The Highlanders who followed Charles Edward 
to Preston Pans, charged in the very manner their ancestors did 
eighteen hundred years before. Mouitains may change, continents 
alter, but races of men are always the same ! As far back as we 
can go in history we find the Celt, the Saxon, or the Arab, just as 
he remains to this day, and as far forward as we can conjecture we 
are justified in supposing that he will still continue the same. 

The Mexican Creole is true to his parentage in the main. In 
whatever he has changed, it has been for the worse. Though the 
Creoles are the dominant race, their numbers, when compared with 
the remaining population, are inconsiderable ; and in consequence, 
the character of the original Spaniard has suffered depreciation. Il 
is important to bear this fact in mind, if we would arrive at a cor- 
rect estimate of the Mexican war. 



UUAl 

IMipT 




UIBIIIll. 




COKPCS CHKISTI. 



BOOK I 




THE ORIGIN OF THE WAR. 

fcr-\fr^^^ ^^^^* ^^^^ Mexico natu- 
' rally divides itself into two 
great periods, the first of these 
comprising the campaign of 
Taylor, and the second that 
of Scott. In order, however, that the 
story may be related with more perspi- 
cuity, we* shall separate it into five parts. 
The first of these will be devoted to the 
origin of the war; the second to the 
campaign of Taylor ; the third to the 
expeditions against Santa Fe and California ; the fourth to the cam. 
pal^nof Scottuptothe armistice; and the fifth to the declaratio« 
of peace. ^g 




20 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



Mexico lies between the fifteenth and thirty-third parallels of north 
latitude ; and consequently, for the most part within the torrid zone. 
Her surface, however, is extremely irregular, so that she comprises 
every variety of chmate and soil known to the habitable globe. On 
the sea-coast the land is low, marshy, and infested with fevers, of 
which the most dreadful is the terrible vomito, that no foreigner can 
hope to escape. As the traveller advances inward, the aspect of the 
country changes. The ground rises ; the plains of sand disappear ; 
tropical fruits begin to vanish ; and fresh, inspiring breezes succeed 
the depressing atmosphere of the tierra caliente, or hot region. After 
Teaching an elevation of about twenty-five hundred feet, the vegeta- 
tion assumes a more genial character. In this tierra templada, or 
temperate region, flourish the oak, the fruit trees, and the grains of 
Europe. It is in this region that Xalapa is situated, at the distance of 
fifty-five miles from Vera Cruz, on the direct road to the capital. Here 
the vomito is unknown. Hither the terrific northers which harass 
the coasts of the gulf never come. The extremes of cold and heat 
are strangers to this delightful climate ; a humid, but salubrious at- 
mosphere invigorates the frame and conduces to longevity ; the 
choicest products of the earth spring up spontaneously; and life 
passes in an Arcadian dream. 

Ascending still higher as he journeys inward, the traveller finally 
reaches an extensive table-land, lying in the lap of the Cordilleras, 
and comprising about three-fifths of the whole surface of Mexico, as 
well as more than four-fifths of the entire population. This great 
central elevation varies in height froQi six thousand to eight thousand 
feet above the sea, and is formed by two branches of the Cordilleras, 
which, diverging from Yucatan, skirt respectively the shores of the 
Pacific and gulf, the one joining the Rocky Mountain chain on the 
borders of Oregon, and the other losing itself, about the twenty- 
seventh parallel of latitude, in the vast plains of Texas. Lateral 
valleys shoot out from this table-land, between spurs of hills, form- 
ing a series of natural defences to the great ceiitral elevation. That 
portion of Mexico which is most densely populated stands, therefore, 
like a fortress, lifted above the surrounding country, and rendered 
almost impregnable by its mountain fastnesses. To add to its iiivui- 
cibility, it is approached from the sea with difficulty, having few 
ports either on the Pacific or gulf coasts, and those of unsafe anchor- 
age, where tremendous hurricanes rise at an hour's notice. 

The table-land, or ilerras frias of Mexico, is comparatively nar- 
row from east to west, but stretches north and south a distance of 
fifteen hundred miles. Its usual temperature varies from 55° to 75** 



MEXICO ITS POPULATION AND PEOPLE. 21 

Fahrenheit. Owing to its great height above the sea, the atmosphere 
on this plateau is extremely rarified. This, while it leads frequently 
to asthmatic complaints, gives a fairy appearance to the landscape 
which bewitches visiters from northern climes. Hills which are 
twenty miles off, seem less than two leagues away : and distant 
mountains lift their snow-capped summits apparently within a 
morning's ride. At night, the stars shine with a brilliancy beyond 
description, the great southern cross blazing like a meteor, the 
grandest of all ! 

The vegetation of .this vast centra! plain is less luxuriant than that 
of the temperate, or torrid regions : but frequently, in the immense 
chasms that penetrate its surface, the cactus, and other tropical 
plants grow rankly. The European grains do not succeed as well 
on the plateau as in their native soil. This immense table-land is 
occasionally cut up into vallies, and occasionally diversified with 
lofty mountains ; but its genera] character is so flat that a traveller 
may journey in a carriage from the capital to Santa Fe, a distance 
of fourteen hundred miles, without apparently deviating from a 
level. The principal cities of Mexico are situated on this plain. 
The most remarkable tract in the whole is the valley of Tenochtitlan, 
in which the capital is built. It is oval in form; is about fifty-five 
miles long and thirty-seven wide ; and is surrounded by ridges of 
porphyritic and basaltic rocks, Popocatepetl, with its eternal fires, 
towering above its south-eastern barrier, like some gigantic Pharos, 
to the height of nearly eighteen thousand feet. The view of the 
valley of Mexico, as it bursts for the first time on the spectator, is 
said to produce an effect beyond that of any other landscape in the 
world. In the days of Cortez, travellers approaching from the coast 
could see a score of cities embowered in vegetation glistening along 
the vast basin below ; but now comparative desolation broods over 
the scene. Yet the beholder still reins in his steed with admiration, 
and, as the expanse of water, fields and cities stretches before him, 
until the view is shut in by the wall of mountains to the west, he 
almost fancies he has come suddenly upon some vision of enchant- 
ment, which the next breath of air will dispel! 

The population of Mexico is computed, in^ round numbers, at 
seven millions. Of these, rather more than a million is supposed 
to be composed of the Creoles, or native-born whites ; four millions 
of the Indians, and the remainder of the mixed bloods. These last 
principally reside on the low grounds ; while the whites occupy the 
table-land. The Indians, though constituting more than half the 
population, and though theoretically on the same political footing as 



22 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

the Creoles, have little or no influence in the government, which is 
practically directed by the rich men, the clergy, and the higher 
officers of the army. These Indians are separated into numerous 
tribes speaking difl'erent languages, of which no less than fourteen 
dictionaries and grammars have been constructed. They are divided 
into two great classes, those who cultivate the land and who gene- 
rally reside on the plateau, and those who lead a roving life aiid 
who are found in the northern states and especially on the upper 
waters of the Rio Grande. As a race they are ignorant, superstitious, 
weak, cowardly and vindictive. Though nominally Christians, they 
still secretly mingle Pagan rites with those of the church. Few of 
them own land ; most of them are little better than slaves. It is the 
opinion of enlightened travellers that they are not susceptible of a 
high state of civilization, though if the soil of Mexico was more 
equally distributed, and some inducement to labor offered, they 
might probably improve. But the race is an inferior one. Like 
the Mongolian, to which it approaches nearest in resemblance, it 
can imitate but never originate 5 and if elevated in the scale of civi- 
lization, would remain for thousands of years without advancing. 

The other principal class, the Creoles, (for the mixed races do not 
call for a separate description) constitute what may properly be called 
the people of Mexico. The most correct estimate places their num- 
bers at about one million three hundred thousand. They possess 
most of the wealth and all the power in Mexico. They are in fact 
a nation of conquerors living among a subjugated people; for the 
prejudices of caste have survived the revolution, and maintain the 
Creoles in the position of a dominant class. Yet, with all their, 
advantages, the curse of heaven seems to have descended on them;' 
and it requires no fanaticism to believe that they are now expiating 
the crimes of Corlez and his followers. Under their sway Mexico 
has retrograded and continues to retrograde. Tlio vallies that once 
bloomed with verdure are now desolate wastes: towns that formerly 
dotted the plateau have disappeared: and, for whole days, the 
traveller may journey as if passing through some vast city of the 
dead. When we peruse the accounts of that luxuriant region as it 
existed in the days of the conqueror, and contrast them with the 
description of the country as it now is, the awful malediction pro- 
■i!6tinced on Babylon rises forcibly before us. 

The unequal distribution of the soil, and the indolent character of 
the Creole race are the chief causes of this decline. The Indians 
have no motive for exertion: the whites shun labor as degrading. 
The Creole spends his time chiefly in lounging, gambling and 



miiilll 



MEXICAN REVOLUTIONS. 23 

sleeping. Even among this race the distribution of property is very 
unequal ; and this, increasing their natural unthrift, deteriorates 
them still more. Perhaps there is no branch of the Caucasian race 
so degraded, physically and morally, as the Creoles of Mexico. 
They are weak in body, small in stature, indolent in their habits. 
and wanting in energy as well as enterprise. They are cruel, 
treacherous and boastful. Though affecting the nice honor of an 
ancient Castilian, they pay little regard to their word : and dissimu- 
lation, which with us is a vice, is with them a virtue. Subtlety and 
deceit, though not the peculiarity of all, are national characteristics, 
and mark alike the captive General who takes an oath he resolves 
to break, and the lurking ranchero who throws his lasso from 
behind a bush. In Europe, a Mexican and a Russian are rated 
equally adepts in dissimulation and intrigue ! In a word, the Creole 
of Mexico, partly in consequence of his enervating climate, partly 
in consequence of other deteriorating causes, has declined from the 
original Spanish stock, and is now to the old Castilian, what the 
Castilian was to the Saxon, or the Saxon to the Norman ! 

From the period of the conquest, up to the year 1810, Mexico 
continued a Spanish colony ; but in that year a rebellion began, 
which, after raging until 1824, terminated in her independence. 
The struggle was sanguinary as well as protracted. Five hundred 
thousand lives, it is estimated, were lost in the contest. Massacre, 
conflagration, and all the worst atrocities of war, rioted in the 
struggle. The Mexican people have scarcely yet recovered from 
that anarchical period. The storm has ceased, but the waters have 
not subsided. The large standing army which grew up during the 
protracted contest has never since been wholly disbanded 5 and the 
Generals who rose to notice in the strife, continue to convulse the 
republic with their struggles for power. The turbulent character of 
the Creoles, who inherit the half Ishmaelitish blood of their Iberian 
ancestors, has assisted these commotions, which again have been 
fostered by the unequal distribution of property, rendering such 
large numbers susceptible to the will of extensive landed proprietors. 
In 1824, on the close of the revolution, a constitution was adopted 
similar to that of the United States, except that all other religions except 
the Catholic Roman Apostolic religion were prohibited, and that the 
Congress was authorized, in periods of national peril, to create a 
Dictator for a limited time. This constitution, however, was prac- 
tically violated, even from the first, though it preserved a nominal 
existence until 1835. In that year the general Congress suppressed 
the state Legislatures; and changed the government from a federative 



24 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

to a centralized one. The republic was now divided into depart 
ments. The President was to be chosen by an indirect vote ; the two 
houses of Congress by a direct popular vole ; and the heads or 
governors of each department by the supreme national authority. 
Revolution now followed revolution, in the midst of which Texas 
vichieved her independence. At last, on the 22nd of August, 1846, 
the federal constitution of 1824 was re-established; the departments 
were dissolved; and the original states re-organized into separate 
and independent commonwealths. The turbulent and unstable cha- 
racter of the Creoles is exhibited by these successive revolutions, 
more numerous within twenty years than those of England for 
twenty generations ! 

Texas was originally a part of Louisiana, and as such belonged to 
the United States under the purchase from France. But in 1819, at 
the time of the Florida treaty, it was surrendered to Spain, and on 
the establishment of the independence of Mexico, became one of the 
states of the new republic. To a great extent Texas was settled by 
emigrants from the United States, being in this respect different from 
her sister commonwealths, whose inhabitants were of Spanish de- 
scent. It was one of the prominent articles in the constitution of 
Texas, which had been approved by the Mexican confederacy, that 
she was independent of the other states. When the federal consti- 
tution was overthrown in 1835, the new government decreed the 
abolition of the state sovereignty of Texas. But this outrage was 
resisted by the people of that commonwealth. Accustomed to the 
sacred regard with which the rights of the states are observed in 
their native confederacy, the majority of the Texan population de- 
termined to resist the decree, and maintain the inviolability of their 
constitution by force of arms. Large numbers of the inhabitants 
being connected by ties of relationship with the people of the United 
States, the utmost sympathy for their cause was felt in this republic, 
especially by the residents of the south-western states. Recruits 
even joined the Texans from this country, and arms were freely 
supplied, scarcely any pretence of secrecy being observed. After 
numerous skirmishes between the Texans and the armies of Mexico, 
a decisive battle was fought at San Jacinto, on the 21st of April, 
1836, in which the former were completely victorious, and Santa 
Anna, the Dictator, taken prisoner. So great was the exasperation 
against this General, in the Texan camp, arising from his ruthless- 
ness, that it was with difficulty General Houston, their commander, 
could preserve his captive's life. Pohcy, however, triumphed over 
revenge in the breast of the Texan leader. In return for his lenity, 



ANNEXATION OF TEXAS. 



t5 



he obtained a tr( aty from Santa Anna, in which the latter, asDicia 
tor, acknowledged the independence of Texas. 




GENERAL SANTA ANNA. 



The people of Texas now made overtures to be received into the 
United States ; but the proposal was declined by Mr. Van Buren, 
then President. Meantime the validity of Santa Anna's treaty was 
denied by the government which, since his capture, had supplanted 
him. The disturbed condition of affairs in the capital, however, 
prevented any active measures being taken to subdue the revolted 
state ; and in the course of years the independence of Texas was 
acknowledged by most Christian nations. Under the administration 
of President Tyler, a new eftbrt was made by the Texans to obtain 
admission into the Union ; and finally, by feigning an intention to 
place themselves under the protection of England, they induced the 
American executive to sign a treaty of annexation in April, 1844. 
This treaty, however, was rejected by the Senate. But in the courst 
of the succeeding year the sentiments toward Texas grew more 
favorable in the United States, and on the 1st of March, 1845, Con- 
gress passed a joint resolution for annexation, stipulating certain 
M — c 



26 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

prehiniKary conditions, however, to which the assent of Texas was 
demanded. The Texans appointed a convention to consider these 
propositions, when, as expected, they were adopted. Tiius the re- 
juiion of the territory of Texas to the United States was effected. 

Never having acknowledged the independence of Texas, Mexico 
considered that state still an integral part of her dominions, and con- 
sequently its absorption into the United States as a robbery by the 
latter power. On the 6th of March, 1845, five days after the pas- 
sage of the joint resolutioris, the Mexican Ambassador at Washing- 
ton protested against the contemplated annexation and demanded 
his passports. This act, generally decisive of an intention to declare 
war, was not immediately followed by hostilities. In fact, the Mexi- 
can rulers were divided as to what course to pursue, some being for 
instant war, and some wishing to avoid it from the exhausted con- 
dition of the country. The sentiment of the Mexican people, how- 
ever, was nearly universal in favor of war. It is probable, never- 
theless, that hostiUties would have been averted, but for the existence 
of other circumstances which still further embarrassed the diplomatic 
relations of the two governments, and heightened the growing dislike 
which the Americans and Mexicans began mutually to entertain for 
each other. 

The Mexican republic, from its beginning, had paid little respect 
to the law of nations. Whenever the government wanted money, 
it was accustomed to obtain it by the seizure of the goods and per- 
sons of foreigners ; and as the successive revolutions which convulsed 
the capital kept the treasury continually dry, these outrages were of 
frequent occurrence. The citizens of the United States suffered most 
from such aggressions, principally in consequence of their large share 
in the commerce of Mexico. To the remonstrances of our govern- 
ment, Mexico at first replied with evasive answers. The outrages 
continuing, our tone became more decided. The Mexican rulers 
finally promised redress, but in the distracted state of their country 
were never able to keep their word, even if they desired it. A treaty 
of amnesty, commerce and navigation, concluded between Mexico 
and the United States, in 1831, led to the hope that these outrages 
would cease. But, after a slight interval, the aggressions on the 
property and persons of our citizens were resumed. Remonstrance 
proving ineffectual. President Jackson, in February, 1837, recom- 
mended to Congress thai an act authorizing reprisals should be 
passed. This spirited conduct produced a fresh promise of justice 
from Mexico. But liaving again evaded her stipulations, President 
Van Buren, in December, 1837, called the attention of Congress to 



PREPARATIONS FOR WAR. 27 

her conduct, advising that body, in a significant passage, ^"'to decide 
upon the time, the mode, and the measure of redress." 

War, however, Avas not declared ;' for in the turbulent condition 
of Mexico, excuses were found, by Coniiress, for her shuffling and 
procrastination. Negotiations were resumed, and in April, 1839, a 
convention of delegates met to adjust ine. claims of our citizens upon 
the government of Mexico. This convention appointed commis 
sioners to examine the claims and report thereon : their duties were 
to terminate in eighteen months. The proceedings of the board, 
however, were so dilatory thai the specified time had elapsed before 
all the claims were adjudicated. The whole sum finally declared to 
be due to citizens of the United States, was ^2,026,139 68. Furthei 
claims to the amount of ^928,627 88, had been examined and con- 
sidered good by the American commissioner, but were slighted by 
the Mexican commissioner, for alleged want of time. There were 
still other claims to the comparatively enormous sum of ^3,336,837 05, 
which had been presented to the board, but which neither of the 
commissioners had scrutinized. The two millions were promptly 
acknowledged as a debt by Mexico, but time was asked for pay- 
ment, which was granted by a second convention held in January, 
1843. When, however, the first instalments fell due, Mexico found 
herself unable to meet them. Disappointed again, after ten years 
of delay, the claimants naturally grew exasperated, and filling the 
halls of Congress with their clamors, increased the popular indigna- 
tion against Mexico. Proposals for a third convention, however, 
were discussed; and had there been no other causes for hostilities, 
the storm would have blown over. But the annexation of Texas 
had now brougnt to a crisis the mutual dislike of Mexico and our 
south-western states ; and all that was wanting for an explosion, 
was that a spark should light on the inflammable material. This 
soon occurred. 

The angry manner in which the Mexican minister had left the 
Uriited States, induced the President to send a fleet into the gulf, 
as a measure of precaution to our commerce, in case of war. He 
also resolved to concentrate an army on the frontier of Texas. 
These warlike movements, however, were accompanied by others 
of a more peaceable character ; the sword and the olive-branch 
being offered together. Through the American Consul at the 
city of Mexico, inquiry was made of the authorities there, whether 
a minister wo^ld be received from the United States, entrusted with 
powers to negotiate a settlement of all dirliculties. A favorable reply 
was returned. It was the understandingof the Mexican governmentt 



S8 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



however, that the new minister would confine himself to the adjust- 
ment of the controversy respecting Texas, and be prepared to pay 
a large sum for the surrender of that territory. When, therefore, 
Mr. SUdell reached Vera Cruz, as Ambassador Plenipotentiary from 
the United States, the Mexican government was thrown into the 
greatest alarm and confusion. In fact the existing administration 
was at a crisis. Herrera, the- President, was sincerely desirous of 
peace ; but he knew the prejudices of the people ; and he was op- 
pose 3 by Paredes, who filled the nation with clamors against Her- 
rera, who, he said, was about to betray the country, by parting with 
Texas. In this emergency, Herrera begged our Ambassador to delay 
offering his credentials. But Mr. Slidell considered he had no choice 




except to obey his instructions. Affairs, in consequence, hastened to 
a crisis. Herrera, finding he could not maintain himself against the 
torrent of po-pular rage, which deepened every hour, resigned, and 
Paredes succeeded him. The American envoy waited for two 
months, until the turmoil of this revolution had partially subsided, 



THE COUNTRY BETWEEN THE NEUCES AND RIO GRANDE. 29 

and then offered his credentials to the new government. His request 
to be accredited was somewhat insolently denied.. He now demanded 
tiis passports, and in April returned to the United States. The hori- 
zon was now ominous of war ! 

The army which, as we have said, President Polk had resolver^ 
to concentrate on the frontier of Texas, first assembled at Fort Jes- 
sup, Louisiana, under the command of Brigadier-General Zachary 
Taylor, an officer then comparatively unknown to the country, 
though appreciated in the army, where he held a high reputation for 
good sense, patriotism, and indomitable courage. From this post it 
had moved, under instructions from the Secretary of War, in July, 
1845. The orders of General Taylor were to select some suitable 
place near the Rio Grande, where he was peaceably to remain, un- 
less the Mexicans should cross that river in force, Avhich act was to 
be deemed an invasion of the territory of the United States, and, 
therefore, a virtual declaration of war. General Taylor, after mature 
consideration, selected Corpus Christi, a httle town on the Mexican 
gulf, near the river Neuces. The troops accordingly were embarked 
from New Orleans, and reached their destination about the first of 
August Here they remained until March, 1846, subjected to many 
privations, for the country around furnished few stores, and the low 
sandy plain on which they were encamped, was swept by terrific 
hurricanes which frequently prostrated the tents. Conflicting rumors 
continually reached head-quarters. The Mexicans, with great 
address, kept their hostile intentions secret. At last intelligence was 
received that Paredes had overthrown Herrera ; that troops were 
rapidly concentrating on the Rio Grande ; and that General Arista, 
who was believed to favor peace, had been superseded by Ampudia, 
known to be an advocate for war. On the 11th of March, General 
Taylor, pursuant to orders dated in January, left Corpus Christi for 
the Rio Grande, with an army numbering about three thousand, 
effective rank and file. Prior to his departure he issued a proclama- 
tion in Spanish, addressed to the inhabitants on the Rio Grande, 
assuring them of the most amicable treatment, promising to respect 
their civil and religious rights, and informing them that whatever 
provisions they would bring into camp should be paid for at the 
highest price. This was deemed a necessary measure of precaution, 
since the army was now leaving that portion of Texas which was 
settled chiefly by Americans, and entering a district occupied entirely 
by a Spanish stock. 

It would be foreign to our purpose to examine the vexed question, 
whether the Neuces or the Rio Grande was the rightful boundary 

M C * 



30 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

of Texas. Mexico asserted that her frontier extended to the Neucesi 
but the United States denied this, and claimed the Rio Grande as the 
boundary, with a right to the free navigation of that river. The 
country between the Neuces and the Rio Grande is generally fertile ; 
but at about half the distance a desert intervenes, thirty miles wide. 
At first accordingly the troops were enchanted with their march. 
The fourth day a mirage arose in the west. Blue mountains in the. 
distance, lakes fringed with trees, and pleasant farm-houses sleeping 
amid luxuriant fields recalled the memories of home, and cheated 
the beholder, for awhile, with the belief in their reality. Herds of 
antelopes sprang up from the prairie as the army passed, galloped 
to the edge of the horizon, and stood looking at the long columns, 
their large dark eyes distended with surprise. The streams crossed 
were edged with thick woodlands. Flowers of the most beautiful 
dye covered the prairies, conspicuous among them the Mexican 
poppy, the indigo, and the scarlet Texan plume. The sun rose and 
set with gorgeous splendor. Occasionally the camp was pitched on 
elevated knolls, surrounded with ponds, from which the water-fowl 
Tustled upwards in thousands. After a week's journey, the army 
reached the desert. The soil here is a deep sand, covered with thin 
^rass, and full of salt ponds, which tantalized the thirsty troops with 
the It liquid beauty. A forced march of twenty miles brought the 
men to a camp. The next day the route was resumed. A high 
wind raised the dust in blinding and choking clouds. The sand was 
like hot ashes to the feet ; the vertical sun beat down with tropical 
fierceness ; and frequently the men, no longer able to keep their 
ranks, sat down parched and desponding by the road-side. At last, 
the joyful cry was passed from the van that a fresh-water pond was 
in sight. New hope inspired all: they rushed forward; and in the 
cooling draught tasted untold pleasure. The country now began to 
change its aspect. The sand disappeared and was succeeded by 
clay ; level plains, nodding with thick woods, rose before the eye ; 
and occasionally horsemen were seen sweeping the distant horizon, 
a sure proof that the army was approaching an inhabited district. 

Arrived at the banks of the Rio Colorado, a body of Mexican 
soldiers was seen drawn up on the opposite shore, while bugles 
were heard sounding up and down the stream, as if a large force 
was concealed behind the trees. A messenger from General Mejia, 
Ihe Governor of Metamoras, appeared, who gave notice that if the 
Americans attempted to cross, they v/ould be fired upon. General 
Taylor replied that as soon as a road could be cut down the banlc, 
which was here twenty feet high, he intended to ford the river, and 



lillHHill 



PASSAGE OF THE RTO COLORADO. 



31 



that the first person who ventured to dispute the passage should be 
shot down. A road was soon dug, and the artillery being unlim- 
bered to defend the pass, the soldiers plunged boldly into the stream, 
General Worth, with his staff, galloping in the advance. The enemy, 
notwithstanding his threats, retired without firing a gun, and the 
passage was achieved. Every step now carried the army into a 
region better inhabited. The soil became richer, the landscape more 
picturesque, and wildernesses of acacia thickets filled the air with 
fragrance. The army was divided, four days after the passage of the 
Colorado : the empty wagons, escorted by the dragoons, turning 
aside to Point Isabel ; while the remainder of the force continued 
its march towards MatamOras. General Taylor accompanied the 
train. At Point Isabel he found the steamboats and supplies he had 
expected at that post. Here also he was met by a deputation from 
Matamoras, protesting against his occupying the country. Leav- 
ing a small force at the Point, where they were ordered to intrench 
themselves, General Taylor rejoined the main army, which had 
awaited him at a beautiful spot, called Palo Alto, eight miles from 




MATAMOBAS. 



Matamoras. As the eye of the Commander-in-chief wandered over 
this lovely plain, where clumps of acacia, ebony and mosquite ye 



SS THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

lieved the monotony of the rich prairie, he said. " We may yet nare 
to fight a battle here ; it is the very spot to make a stand.^' Memo- 
rable words, and too soon verified ! 

It was the twenty-eighth of March, 1846, when the steeples of 
Matamoras rose in sight of the little army of Taylor. The approach 
to the town was heralded by increasing signs of cultivation. At 
last, the rapid waters of the Rio Grande were seen whirling directly 
before, while, on the opposite shore of the narrow stream, here less 
than two hundred yards wide, a crowd of persons was visible, actu- 
ated by curiosity to see those strange men from another clime, the 
" barbarians of the north,'' of whom they had heard so nmch. A 
suitable place was immediately selected for tht camp : after which 
General Worth was deputed to cross to Matamoras, and reply to the 
protest which General Taylor had received at Point Isabel. General 
Worth was not permitted to enter the town, but held a conference 
with General La Vega on the bank. The interview was unsatisfac- 
tory to both sides. The succeeding days were spent in mutual dis- 
trust. The Mexicans worked assiduously in strengthening the 
defences of the town ; while the Americans were as zealously 
engaged in throwing up a fort. Rumors occasionally disturbed the 
camp respecting a contemplated attack on Point Isabel. Proclama- 
tions having been secretly distributed among the American soldiers, 
offering inducements to desert, several men swam the river, of 
whom two were shot by the sentries. Nevertheless, General Mejia, 
who commanded at Matamoras, did not openly assume a hostile 
character ; but released two dragoons who had been captured a few 
days previously. On the 1st of April Ampudia arrived at Mata- 
moras and took command, when the scene began to change. He 
immediately notified General Taylor, that unless the American army 
retired to the Neuces within twenty-four hours, the Mexican govern- 
ment would consider war declared. The reply of General Taylor 
was mild, but firm. He said that he had come to the Rio Grande, 
in a peaceable attitude, by order of the American government ; that 
he should remain ; and that the responsibility of a war, if one arose, 
would be on that side which fired the first gun. The calm and dig- 
nified tone of General Taylor, in this and all future communications 
with the enemy, was in strong contrast with the boastful and arro* 
gant style of Ampudia. 

Affairs now hastened to a crisis. Colonel Cross, who had been 
missed from camp on the 11th, was found on the 21st, murdered in 
a chapparal. A party having been sent out, on the 16th, to search 
for the body of the missmg otficer, was attacked by some roving 



COMMENCEMENT OF HOSTILITIES. 



33 



Mexicans, and Lieutenant Porter, as well as one of his men, killed. 
On the 22nd, Ampudia complained to General Taylor of the block- 
ade of the Rio Grande. The American General replied, that, if 
Ampudia would sign an armistice until the boundary question was 




COLONEL CROSS 



settled, or war declared, he would raise the blockade, but on no 

other terms. Ampudia declined the armistice. A spy having brought 

in intelligence that a large body of Mexican cavalry had crossed the 

Rio Grande above the camp, Cap.tain Thornton, on the evening of 

the 25th, was sent out to reconnoitre : when his troop was attacked 

by a superior fojce under General Torrejon, several of his men cut 

off, himself wounded, and the whole party ultimately captured. The 

prisoners were taken to Matamoras, where, however, they were 

treated with courtesy. This act may be considered as the commence- 

16 



S4 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



m«nt of hostilities ; for the aggressions on the Americans, up to this 
point, had been conducted by unauthorised bands of Mexican ma- 
rauders. 

As if aware of the events which were transacting on the Rio 
Grande, the President of Mexico issued a proclamation, at the capi- 
tal, on the 22nd of April, 1846, declaring the existence of war 
between the two republics. It is apparent that the Mexican govern- 
ment had resolved on hostilities from the first, and had only dissimu- 
(ated in order to gain time. 




_J 




POINT ISABEL. 



BOOK II 



CAMPAIGN ON THE RIO GRANDE. 



N the evening of the 26th of 
April, as soon as the attack on 
Captain Thornton's party became 
known, Taylor despatched an ex- 
press, with a requisition on the 
governors of Texas and Louisia- 
na for five thousand volunteers. 
Two davs after, he received in- 
telligence of an attack on Captain 
Walker's camp, which lay be 
tween the fort and Point Isabel 
Rumors that the Mexicans were 
crossing the ^io Grande in force, 
both above and below, alarmed 
him for his communications ; and he resolved to leave a garrison at 

35 




36 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

Fort Brown, and march with the remainder of his army to the relief 
of the Point. This plan he executed on the 1st of May. 

The men marched prepared for battle, and slept on their arms on 
the open prairie. In the morning the route was resumed, and no 
Mexicans appearing, the troops reached Point Isabel without moles- 
tation. The sight of the American flag still waving over Fort Polk, 
was greeted with loud huzzas. Fatigued by the extreme heat of 
the march, the men were glad to avail themselves of repose, and 
soon sank to slumber. But day had scarcely dawned on the 3rd, 
when the heavy booming of artillery from the direction of Mata- 
moras, aroused the camp ; for the Mexicans, availing themselves of 
the departure of Taylor, had attacked Fort Brown. The reveille 
beat amid the wildest anxiety and alarm. The cry to march was 
on all lips. The conduct of the General, in this crisis, proved HM 
great soldier. At first he was inclined to yield to the generous im- 
pulse of his army ; but reflecting that he would, in that case, have to 
leave his stores behind and thus frustrate the object of his expedition, 
he determined first to try and open a communication with the fort. 
For this difficult and perilous undertaking, Captain Walker, of the 
Texan rangers, offered himself. He left the camp immediately, and 
was escorted part of the distance by Captain May, who then returned 
to the Point. Walker was absent two nights and a day, returning 
on the morning of the 5th. He brought intelligence that the garrison 
considered itself able to hold out, and was determined at least to 
make the attempt. Nor did success seem improbable ; for on the 
first day of the bombardment, the superior fire of the fort had silenced 
the hea^yy guns of the Mexicans in thirty minutes ; and the enemy 
had since contented himself with throwing shells. The garrison 
feared nothing but an assault by overwhelming numbers ; and in 
that case every man had resolved to die at his gun. 

On receipt of this intelligence the concern of the General was 
partially dissipated ; but nevertheless no time was lost in preparing 
lo march. The report of artillery from the direction of the fort con- 
tinued, and stimulated the exertions of the men. Scouts gave infor- 
mation of immense columns of the enemy, which had crossed the 
Rio Grande, and now occupied the prairie between the Point and 
fort. By the morning of the 7th, nearly every thing was in readi- 
ness for an advance. The General now issued the order to march. 
It was couched in concise and forcible language, and breathed a 
confidence which animated all. '' It is known the enemy has recently 
occupied the route i# force :" said this memorable document : " If 
still in possession, the General will give him battle. The command 



_..Jii 



BATTLE OP PALO ALTO. 37 

ing General has every confidence in his officers and men. If his 
orders and instructions are carried out he has no doubt of the result, 
let the enemy meet him in what numbers they may. He wishes to 
enjoin upon the battalions of infantry that their main dependence 
must be in the bayonet." The army escorted a large train, rich not 
only in provisions, but in munitions of war. Advancing five miles, 
Taylor encamped for the night. No enemy had yet been seen. But 
on the next day, after a march of twelve miles, the Mexicans were 
discovered, less than a mile distant, their dense and apparently in- 
terminable masses darkening the prairie. 

General Taylor immediately prepared for action. The day had 
been sultry, and the men were suffering for water. Accordingly a 
halt was ordered, the army was formed into columns of attack, and 
then the soldiers, half at a time, were allowed to fill their canteens. 
While this was in progress the enemy continued nearly immovable, 
ranged along the further end of the prairie, in advance of a stunted 
wood, exposing a front of nearly a mile and a half. The Mexican 
lancers were known by the flash of their weapons ; the infantry by 
the darker mass presented to the eye. As near as could be estimated, 
the force of the enemy was over six thousand. The Americans, to 
oppose this, had but eighteen hundred infantry, and two hundred 
cavalry ; but they were strong in confidence, discipline, and indomi- 
table valor. Their artillery, moreover, though not numerous, was 
admirable. It consisted of two eighteen pound guns drawn by oxen, 
and eight light pieces, belonging to Ringgold's and Duncan's flying 
artillery. The field of battle was covered by long, dense grass. 
The army having refreshed itself, the order to advance was given, 
when the men moved to the attack as coolly and with as much regu- 
larity as on a drill. An incident occurred, at this point, which 
inspired all. Suddenly Lieutenant Blake, of the topographical engi- 
neers, dashed forward until he was within a hundred and fifty yards 
of the Mexicans, when he took out his spy-glass and began to recon- 
noitre their lines, riding leisurely along their whole front. Having 
performed this duty to his satisfaction, he returned as coolly to the 
General and reported. This gallant officer, unfortunately, was killed 
by the accidental discharge of one of his own pistols on the ensuing 
day. 

The line of battle had been formed in two wings ; the right, com- 
manded by Colonel Twiggs, consisted of the third, fourth and fifth 
infantry, with the eighteen-pound battery and Ringgold's artillery, 
the left, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Belknap, was formed of 
the eighth infantry and Duncan's artillery. The action began at 

M — D 



38 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



three o'clock, P. M., at a distance oi seven hundred yards, by the 
enemy opening with his artillery. The batteries of Duncan and 
Ringgold were immediately advanced to the front, and a furious 
cannonade ensued. The Mexicans fired at the American guns, 
while the Americans aimed at the masses of the foe. The slaughter, 
consequently, was very unequal. Moreover, to avoid the fire as far 
as possible, the Americans had been ordered to deploy into line, all 
except the eighth infantry, which continued in column ; and, when 
the battle began, the men were further directed to lie down. The 
wagons had been formed into a park in the rear, near which the 
dragoons remained. The contest was confined, for a long time, to 
the American batteries and those of the enemy. Between these the 
battle soon became terrific. Explosion followed' explosion with 
almost incredible velocity, the plain shaking under the tremendous 
concussions. The masses of the enemy were visibly trembling be- 
neath the discharges, which incessantly ploughed their ranks. The 
Mexican shot, in return, generally whistled over the Americans. 
At last the prairie took fire, and the thick columns of smoke from 
the burning gtass, obscured for awhile the opposing forces from each 
other. 

At this crisis, a dense body of cavalry, apparently about a thou- 
sand strong, dashed out from the enemy's left, as if to assail the* 
American flank and reach the train in the rear. Their splendid 
appearance, with their long lances gleaming and flashing in the sun, 
awoke the admiration even of their enemies. They were promptly 
met and repulsed by a part of Ringgold's artillery, aided by the third 
and fourth infantry, the latter of whom received them in square, 
emptying twenty saddles with a single fire from one angle. Mean- 
while Ringgold, with the remainder of his battery, was tearing the 
Mexican left to pieces with his rapid and well aimed discharges. 
While thus engaged, a cannon-shot mortally wounded him. The 
battle raged wilder than ever. Ringgold's battery, now led by Ridge- 
ley, was pushed forward on the right, under cover of the smoke ; 
and, by this movement, the enemy was compelled to change his line 
of battle. Duncan's battery, in hke manner, made a brilliant flank 
movement on the Mexican right. The foe fell back in confusion 
before these new assaults : and the sun, as he went down, looked on 
the retreating masses of the enemy, repulsed by a force less than 
one-half their own in numbers. 

Thus ended the memorable battle of Palo Alto, which gave a 
prestige to all the future operations of General Taylor. The loss 
on the part of the Americans had been slight, but had fallen dispro- 



-J< 



BATTLE OP RESACA DE LA PALMA. 39 

portionately on the officers. In all nine were killed and fifty- four 
wounded. Major Ringgold and Captain Page were both mortally 
injured. The wounds of the men were mostly from cannon-shot and 
therefore severe, requiring amputation of some limb. The enemy. 
as was subsequently discovered, lost in killed, wounded and missing 
six hundred. The American officers exposed themselves with the 
utmost intrepidity, and thus animated the troops, few of whom had 
ever been in battle: General Taylor himself often being where the 
fire was the hottest. In the official despatch, the General says : — 
" Our artiUery, consisting of two eighteen-pounders, and two light 
batteries, was the arm chiefly engaged, and to the excellent manner 
in which it was manoBuvred and served is our success mainly due." 
The rapidity of the fire from Duncan's battery especially astonished 
and confounded the enemy. The victors bivouacked on the field of 
battle. Notwithstanding the defeat of the enemy, the impression 
was general that another action would be fought on the morrow ; 
rumors prevailed in the camp that the enemy had only fallen back 
to a stronger position, where he had been reinforced ; and doubt and 
uncertainty mingled with the dreams of the exhausted soldiers. 
While the men slept, the General called a council of officers, to con- 
eider whether it was best to advance or retire. The decision was 
unanimous in favor of an advance. 

Accordingly, soon after sunrise, the army was put in motion. In 
order that the march might not be encumbered, the wounded were 
sent back to the Point, while the train was parked, a temporary 
breastwork being thrown up, on which some twelve-pounders, which 
had been in the wagons, were mounted. The scouts thrown out in 
front reported the enemy in full retreat. As the Americans marched 
along the road, they passed the spot where the foe had been drawn 
up the preceding day, when a pitiable spectacle met the sight. The 
Mexican slain lay in huge heaps about the field, where the artillery 
had literally mowed them down, disclosing the most ghastly wounds. 
Occasionally a maimed soldier would be seen, who, by signs rather 
than words, begged for water ; when, with the characteristic huma- 
nity of the American, a dozen canteens were instantly ready for his 
parched lips. In one part of the plain a dog was found lying by the 
corpse of his master ; nor could any entreaties induce him to leave 
the dead body. The General humanely sent parties to search for the 
wounded, whom he ordered to be treated with the same care as his 
own men. 

The army, in consequence of the guard left with the train, wai, 
flow reduced to seventeen hundred men. When about three milei 



I 



40 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. * 

from Fort Brown, the Mexicans were perceived drawn up directly 
across the road. They had placed themselves in a very strong posi- 
tion behind a semi-circular ravine, in front of v^hich the chapparal 
bristled, like a continuous chevaux de frieze. The few openings 
through this dense undergrowth were guarded by artillery ; while 
masses of Mexican infantry lined the ravine, and concentrated their 
fire on these passes. The enemy had received large reinforcements 
since the preceding evening, among them the celebrated Tampico 
regiment ; and Arista, trusting to these and to his position, had pub- 
licly declared that ten thousand veterans could not drive him from 
his ground. But General Taylor, notwithstanding this, did not hesi- 
tate a moment in commencing the attack. He ordered the infantry 
to file past the train and deploy as skirmishers to the right and left 
of the road : on this the foe opened his fire, which raked the routo. 
of the advancing Americans with terrible effect. Ridgeley's battery 
was now ordered to the front. He made his first discharge at a con- 
siderable distance from the Mexicans, but at successive intervals, 
between the fire of the latter, galloped forward and took up new 
positions, until at last he had approached within one hundred yards. 
At this murderous proximity he continued firing grape and cannister, 
which the enemy returned with almost equal rapidity, so that soQti 
the plain was swept incessantly by a hurricane of death. 

The infantry, meantime, were advancing towards the chappaial, 
and directly the sharp rattle of musketry mingled with the crashing 
of grape-shot. The third and fourth regiments finally reached the 
ravine, down which they plunged with fierce shouts, and soon their 
fire was seen sparkling along the chapparal. The Mexicans fought 
nobly. Eagerly rushing to the encounter, the struggle became hand 
to hand. Bayonets were crossed repeatedly. The regiments even- 
tually became mixed in the dense chapparal ; but the native valor 
of the men triumphed over every obstacle, and the struggle continued, 
each soldier fighting as if the day depended solely on himself. One 
of the Mexican guns on the right had been captured, but no impres- 
sion had yet been made on the enemy's centre. The General know- 
ing that victory depended on carrying the battery there, which 
formed the key to the Mexican position, ordered up Captain May, 
with his dragoons, and directed him to charge. This officer had been 
whhout any opportunity to signalize himself in the action of the day 
before, and had, on the present occasion, remained chafing in the 
rear, fearful that his services would not be required. He therefore 
Jiailed this command with glee, and went thundering down the road 
vith bis troop, eager for the shock. When the dragoons reached 



BATTLE OP RESACA DE LA PALMA. 



41 



Ridgeley's battery he requested them to halt, while he drew the 
enemy's fire. The blaze of the guns had scarcely passed, when May 
dashed forward, on his powerful charger, followed closely by Lieu- 
tenant Inge and his troopers. Arrived nearly at the breastwork, he 
turned to wave on his followers. At that moment a discharge from 
the upper battery hurtled through his little band, emptying twenty- 
five saddles. But a thunderbolt might as easily have been stopped 




COLONEL MAY AT RESACA DK LA PALMA. 



as that impetuous column. Down the ravine, through the chapparal, 
over the very guns of the enemy went May and his troopers, sabring 
the foe wherever they came : then, wheeling, they rushed back, and 
drove the gunners from their pieces, May himself capturing General 
La Vega, who commanded at this point. The eighth infantry, and 
a part of the fifth, now came running up, and secured what the dra- 
goons had taken. But even after the loss of their artillery, the enemy 
maintained the fight, the contest continuing to rage along the ravine, 
until the Americans cleared it with the push of the bayonet. 

Ai last the Mexicans were driven at nearly all points. The pur- 
suit lay along a road, comparatively narrow, and fenced in, as it 

M — D* 



i 



42 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

were, between high walls of chapparal. But the Tampico regiment^ 
victors in twenty pitched battles, still fought valiantly, the men clus- 
tering around its flag, until all were cut down. When the Mexicans 
saw the fall of this veteran regiment, panic seized them. Horse and 
foot, breaking their ranks, and crowding on each other, rushed towards 
the Rio Grande, in swimming which lay their only hope of escape. 
At the head of the pursuit rattled the flying artillery, pouring in its 
bloody fire. The infantry followed at a run, cheering as it advanced. 
About two hundred yards from the ravine the Americans reached 
the deserted camp of the Mexicans. Here beeves were killed, camp- 
fires were hghted, and meals were cooking, so little had the enemy 
expected such a result to the day's struggle. In the midst of the 
tents stood the gorgeous pavilion of Arista. It contained treasures 
of plate, hangings, and other luxuries, equal to a satrap's. The 
spoil of the camp was prodigious. Three standards, eight pieces of 
artillery, an immense quantity of ammunition, with the arms and 
equipments of seven thousand men and two thousand horses fell 
into the hands of the victors. The enemy were pursued towards the 
river, and many of them drowned in attempting to cross. As the 
victors passed the lines of the fort opposite Matamoras, three shots 
from eighteen-pounders went over them, and, for a moment, the cry 
passed through the troops that their friends had mistaken them for 
the foe and were firing on them ; but the discharges were not 
repeated, and it was afterwards ascertained they came from the city. 
Thus ended the battle of Resaca de la Palma. The loss of the 
Americans was thirty-nine killed and seventy-one wounded. Lieu- 
tenant Inge of the dragoons, and Lieutenants Cochrane and Chad- 
bourne of the infantry, were among the slain. The enemy, it is 
computed, suff"ered in killed, wounded and missing, not less than 
two thousand. 

When the victorious army reached Fort Brown, the garrison 
looked as if it had been buried in the earth ; for bomb-proof shelters 
and holes dug for covers, appeared on every side. The bombard- 
ment, which had begun on the morning of the 3rd, had continued 
without intermission since. On the first day one of the garrison was 
killed. On the 6th, Major Brown was wounded in the leg by a 
shell, and being placed for safety in a burrow, his wound mortified, 
and he died on the 9th, just before the cry of victory reached the 
fort. Only twelve others were wounded during the bombardment, 
though the Mexicans flattered themselves they had killed nearly the 
whole garrison. The men were nearly worn down by watching, for 
as an assault might be expected every night, they dared not allow 



BOMBARDMENT OF FORT BROWN. 



43 



themselves repose. On the 6th large parties of the enemy were seen 
in the rear of the fort, which were scattered with cannister ; but 
immediately a tremendous fire was opened from Matamoras, and 




FORT BKOWN. 



shortly after, a parley being beaten, the Mexicans sent a sanniions 
to surrender, with a threat that if not complied with in an hour's 
time, the garrison should be put to the sword. A refusal was the 
prompt and determined answer of Captain Hawkins, who had suc- 
ceeded Major Brown in the command. A shower of shot and shells 
now- fell around the fort, in the midst of which the brave Hawkins 
hoisted the regimental colors on different angles of the work. The 
night passed in quiet, the garrison under arms. On the 7th the 
bombardment was resumed more furiously than ever ; but still with- 
o-ut the expected demonstration for an assault. In the night, Haw- 
kins made a sortie with a hundred men, and levelled a traverse on 
the river bank, to prevent its being occupied by the enemy. Early on 
the succeeding morning the Mexican batteries opened afresh, with 
even greater vehemence than on the day before, firing from north, 



44 THE WAR WITH MEXICO* 

south and west at once. At last, in the pauses of the reverberatioiWj 
the guns at Palo Alto were heard : the battle drew nearer : and then 
the garrison knew that Taylor was approaching. Night, however, 
fell without any tidings from him. The utmost anxiety prevailed. 
The overwhelming forces of the Mexicans, coupled with Taylor's 
non-appearance, would have dispelled all hope, but that no bells, or 
other sounds of triumph, were heard in Matamoras. On the 9th the 
garrison awoke, refreshed by partial slumbers, the first th^y had 
dared to indulge in for a week. At dawn the bombardment began 
again. But soon the guns of Resaca de la Palma were heard, and 
to the joy of all, the sounds of battle approached. At last the Mexi- 
can cavalry were seen flying towards the Rio Grande, and soon after 
a confused mass of fugitives appeared, driven before the victorious 
Americans. At this welcome sight one of the officers sprang on the 
parapet at the foot of the great flag-staff, and beckoning for silence, 
called for three cheers for the stars and stripes. The shouts that 
followed were repeated until the welkin shook, and were heard far 
over the river in the great square of Matamoras. 

Had General Taylor been provided with a pontoon train he could 
have followed up these victories by driving the enemy immediately 
from Matamoras ; but a delay of a week occurred in consequence 
of the want of adequate means for crossing the Rio Grande. At 
last, sufficient boats were accumulated. On the IGth, however, he 
received a commissioner from the foe, desiring a suspension of hos- 
tilities until the question of boundary between the two countries 
should be decided. The General replied that the time for an armis- 
tice had passed; and on the 17th crossed, and took possession of 
Matamoras, which the Mexican army had evacuated the day before, 
carrying with them most of the public stores and munitions. The 
retreat of Arista was owing to the dispirited condition of his troops. 
Falling back in the direction of the more elevated country, the 
Mexican General finally took post at Monterey, a fortified town, 
situated in the lap of rugged hills, on the sides of that vast table- 
land, which rises, as we have said, like some huge castellated struc- 
ture, in the centre of Mexico. 

In recompense for these brilliant victories. General Taylor, in July, 
was made a full Major-General. He remained at Matamoras until 
the 5th of August, waiting for supplies, when he advanced to 
Camargo, resolving to make that the base of his contemplated ope- 
rations against Monterey. Meantime active measures had been 
taken in the United States to carry on the war. On the 11th of May, 
as soon as intelligence of the attack on Captain Thornton's party 



MOVEMENTS OF THE AMERICAN ARMY. 45 

arrived, the President had communicated to Congress a message, 
stating that war existed by the act of Mexico, and asking for 
supplies. The whigs, who formed a minority, however, objected to 
affirming, as the preamble to the resolutions of supply declared, that 
the hostilities were begun by Mexico, yet offered to vote any amount 
of money or men to extricate General Taylor from his perilous posi- 
tion. The democratic party, however, who were in the ascendant, 
refused to expunge the obnoxious preamble, and the act finally 
passed as reported, the whigs generally voting with a protest. Ten 
millions of money were ordered to be raised. Fifty thousand twelve 
months volunteers were called out* With such alacrity did recruits, 
under this requisition, flood to camp, that General Taylor soon found 
himself embarrassed with their numbers, his plan of operations not 
requiring more than five or six thousand men, while the Secretary 
of War promised him speedily twenty thousand. Adequate supplies 
also were wanting. But in the midst of these perplexities, the 
General evinced such calmness of mind and practical good sense, 
that the army was rejoiced to hear that General Scott was not 
coming to supersede him, as had been originally intended. 

During the summer Commodore Connor occupied his fleet in 
blockading the Mexican ports in the gulf. Meantime, the govern- 
ment of Paredes, which had begun in January with such popularity, 
was tottering to its fall in consequence of the late defeats. Arista 
had been summoned to the capital, with the intention of sacrificing 
him to the public vengeance ; but even this movement did not 
appease the clamor, which was adroitly fomented by the partizans 
of Santa Anna, now an exile in Cuba. At last, the city of Vera 
Cruz declared in favor of Santa Anna, on the 31st of July ; and this 
resolution was soon imitated in the capital, and other places. On 
the 16th of August, the exile returned to his native country, with 
the connivance of President Polk, who believed that by his aid, a 
speedy and permanent peace could be procured. The federal 
constitution of 1824 was now restored, and the election of a Con- 
gress ordered for December. At high noon, on the 15th of Septem- 
ber, Santa Anna made his triumphal entry into the capital, where 
he was received with the peal of bells, the clang of martial music, 
the roar of artillery, and the acclamations of thousands. Indeed all 
parties appeared, for the time, to look upon him in the light of a 
deliverer. 

Towards the close of August the line of March was taken up foi 
Ceralvo. Preparatory to this, however, the army had been separa- 
ted into two divisions ; the first being placed under command of 



46 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



General Twiggs, the second under General Worth. A proclamation 
to conciliate the Mexican people was also issued. The route pur- 
sued by the Americans lay, for some time yet, along the Rio Grande. 
Lofty ranges of mountains began, however, to loom in the distance. 
Turning to the south-west, near Mier, the army now experienced a 
more rugged route ; but the soil was generally rich, and the toil 
was sweetened by the scent of millions of fragrant flowers. The 
air grew more cool and bracing. In the evening, the loiterers around 
the camp-fires beheld piles of dark, fantastic clouds, fringed with 
moonlight ; patches of clear, blue sky ; and, frequently, at the 
same time, hghtning in the south. Amid scenes like these they half 
persuaded themselves they were in a land of enchantment. When 
they reached Ceralvo they realized their dreams of an earthly Para- 
dise. The air here was as balmy as in spring. Every house had its 
garden, fragrant with flowers ; a limpid river, murmuring in cascades, 
and spanned by innumerable stone bridges, ran through the town ; 
while, in the midst, rose a cathedral, whose half Saracenic -architec- 
ture carried the imagination back to the romantic days of Old Spain. 
The country beyond Ceralvo increased in ruggedness. The priva- 
tions of the march were now redoubled, for no means existed for 
transporting the sick, who staggered on with their companions, or 
lay down despairingly to die. The inhabitants were civil, but not 
social ; and when the officers wished to see a fandango, they were 
told they would have dancing enough at Monterey, ominous words 
which they better understood at a later day. The picturesque cha- 
racter of the region increased at every step. Now the army moved 
through an amphitheatre of mountains, enclosing beautiful valleys, 
surrounded by smaller hills, and these backed by towering sierras : 
now it passed a succession of bold, rugged cliffs, or conical peaks, 
the white, verdureless sides glistening in the sun, while magnificent 
clouds curled around their tops, or nestled in the ravines half way 
down. At last the blue mountains, at whose base Monterey slept, 
rose in the west. Pressing on, the army reached Merine, whence, 
at the distance of twenty-five miles, the city itself became visible, a 
white mass of buildings reposing in the delicious valley of San Juan ; 
while beyond, in silent grandeur, rose the huge masses of the Sierra 
Madre, towering far above the lesser chain of mountains, and piercing 
the clouds with their lofty summits. The excitement now became 
intense. The troops pressed forward, in order of battle, and on the 
19th of September, 1846, the city of Monterey broke suddenly upon 
the view at the distance of two miles. Through the blue morn 
ing haze, palace and hill, steeple and fort seemed floating in the air. 



THE MARCH TO MONTEREY. 



4" 



The silence and repose that hung around the landscape were so deep 
that it seemed a vision rather than a reality. Suddenly, as the col- 
umns emerged heyond the grove of St. Domingo, a sheet of flame 
shot from the dark sides of the citadel, a dull report followed, and a 
cannon-ball hissed by, richochetting over the head of General Taylor, 
and burying itself in the earth jast beyond. It was the first gun of 
Monterey ! 

The American army was computed at nine thousand men ; but 
the actual numbers at Monterey were six thousand six hundred, the 
remainder being distributed in garrisons at Camargo and other places. 
To oppose these the Mexicans had seven thousand regular troops, be- 
sides nearly three thousand irregulars. Monterey, moreover possessed 
natural and artificial defences, which still further increased the disparity 
between the contending forces. The city stands in the valley of San 




MONTEREY, AND THE SADDLE MOUNTAINS. 



Juan, its rear washed by the river of that riam.e. Two main approaches 
lead into it. The first is the road from Ceralvo, by which the Ameri- 
cans approached ; and the second, the main Saltillo road, which, fol 
lowing the course of the St. Juan, enters the town on the west, as 



i 



48 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

the other does on the east. The SaitiUo road is overhung, just out 
side the city, by two formidable heights strongly fortified, completely 
commanding this approach. The Ceralvo road, on the contrary, 
crosses a comparative plain. Though nature had here done. less to 
protect the town, art had done more ; for the guns of the citadel, an 
almost impregnable fortress, raked this route, while, further on, nume- 
rous small batteries remained to pass, before the city could be reached. 
Even here, however, the peril was not over ; for the streets had 
been trenched, the house-tops loaded with missiles, and artillery 
placed in every possible position to annoy a foe. In short, Monterey 
was regarded as unconquerable. General Taylor, indeed, was not 
aware either of the great strength of the place, or of the numbers of 
its garrison until he arrived before it ; a recOnnoisance on the 1 9th, 
however, revealed a portion of the truth ; but, nothing intimidated, 
he resolved to attack. Worth, with his division of regulars was 
ordered to move around to the right, and carry the heights com- 
manding the Saitillo road : while Taylor reserved to himself the 
assault in front, at the head of the divisions of Twiggs and Butler. 

On the morning of the 21st the main attack began. A strong 
column, with Bragg's artillery, passing the citadel hastily, advanced 
against the town on the extreme left. They were at first opposed 
by a redoubt, but throwing themselves impetuously into its rear, 
the men rushed into the town, and notwithstanding a tremendous 
cross-fire opened upon them, from batteries, from the roofs of houses, 
and from every street corner, succeeded in obtaining a temporary 
footing in the place. At last, however, the fire became so murderous 
that they were compelled to retire. Taylor now ordered up the 
fourth infantry, and the volunteer regiments from Mississippi, Ten- 
nessee, and Ohio. A portion of this force dashed forward against 
the redoubt, but was received with such a withering fire as to be 
compelled to withdraw. The remainder, making a circuit, succeeded 
in capturing the fort. This gallant action was performed by General 
Quitman, assisted by Captain Backus. Simultaneously an assault, 
led by General Butler, was being made against the town somewhat 
to the right, where a second battery had been erected. The guns 
of the captured fort were turned on this battery ; and the volunteers 
advanced with heroic intrepidity. But in vain. General Butler 
was wounded and forced to leave the field. Colonel Garland, after 
leading his men almost into the heart of the city, and passing trium- 
phantly several streets trenched and barricaded, reached a tefe au 
point, where a struggle indescribably terrific, arose. The enemy 
frequently faltered, but were continually reinforced, until they nura- 



BATTLE OF MONTEREY. 



49 



Dered a thousand ; while the assailants were but one hundred and 
fifty. The slaughter, at this point, was so great that Captain Henry 
of the third, who went into action with five seniors, at the end of 
half an hour found himself in command of his regiment. At last,. 
Taylor withdrew his troops, and night fell on the combatants. 




MONTEEET AS SEEN FROM THE CAMP OF TAYXOR. 



Meantime, Worth on the Saltillo road had not been idle. Early 
on the morning of the 21st, he had been charged by a body of lan- 
cers, who were repulsed chiefly by Duncan's battery, with a loss to 
the assailants of their commanding officer and a hundred men. He 
now prepared to storm the heights commanding the approaches in 
front. One of these, Federation Hill, was on the right of the river : 
and was defended by two batteries, both of which were gallantly 
carried by Captain P. F. Smith, at the head of a mixed force of 
regulars and volunteers. The other height was on the left of the 
river, where Worth lay, and was defended by a strong fortress called 
the Bishop's Palace, half way up the ascent, and by a battery on 
the extreme summit. These were assaulted and won, early on the 
morning of the 22nd, I'y Colonel Childs, at the head of six compa- 
nies of regulars and two hundred Texan riflemen. Never was a 

M — E 17 



50 



THE WAR WITH' MEXICO. 



f 



more splendid sight, than the storming of this height, as seen from 
Taylor's camp at the other side of the town. The morning was 
still and hazy. " The first intimation we had of the attacK," says 
an eye-witness, "was the discharge of musketry near the top of the 
hill. Each flash looked like an electric spark. The flashes arid the 
white smoke ascended the hill-side steadily, as if worked by ma- 
chinery. The dark space between the apex of the heights and the 
curling smoke of the musketry became less and less, until the whole 
became enveloped in smoke, and we knew it was gallantly carried." 

The guns of the Bishop's Palace were now turned upon the town, 
and Worth's victorious troops poured down to attack the city. The 
wisdom of the diversion on the Saltillo road was now vindicated, for 
Ampudia, considering the heights in that direction as the key to his 
position, abandoned his outer batteries in front of Taylor, and con- 
centrated his troops in the heart of the town. The 22d passed in 
comparative inactivity on the part of the Commander-in-chief But, 
on the 23d, Taylor resumed the attack. Quitman, with his brigade, 
entered the town, and finding the houses fortified, actually hewed 
his way through. Bragg's battery, and the third infantry joined in 
the strife ; and the victorious Americans were soon within two 
squares of the Grand Plaza, On his part, Worth was not idle ; but 
advanced, throwing shot and shells. Duncan, at the head of his re- 
nowned battery, swept the streets with incessant discharges; and' 
the Texans, armed with pick-axes, cut their way under cover of the 
houses. The hissing of the shot, the crash of fallen timbers, the 
cries of the afl'righted Mexicans, the crack of the American rifles, 
and the huzzas with which the victorious troops welcomed every 
new foothold gained, conspired to render the scene one of the most 
stirring in history. Consternation now began to seize the enemy. 
Crowds of the inhabitants, flying to the cathedral in the great 
square, huddled together with shrieks; while the troops, sternly 
collecting around the approaches to this sacred spot, prepared to 
make a last stand. Suddenly a bomb came whirling and hissing 
through the air : it hovered for an instant, over the agitated con- 
course ; and then plunged into one of the towers of the cathedral, 
scattering ruin and death around. A universal cry of horror rent 
the air; for the other tower was full of powder, and none knew but 
that the next shell might fall into it, and blow up the city. 

Ampudia, despairing of holding out longer, now proposed a 
capitulation. Accordingly a treaty was signed the next day. The 
terms of surrender were, that the town and citadel of Monterey 
ihould be given up to the Americans : that the Mexican forces 



11 



CAPTURE OP MONTEREY.' 51 

sftould, within seven days, retire beyond a line formed by the pass 
of Rinconado, the city of Linares, and San Fernando de Pregas 
that the officers should be allowed to retain their side-arms, the 
soldiers their arms and accoutrements, and the artillery a field 
battery not to exceed six pieces. The Mexican flag, on being 
struck, was to be saluted by its own guns. An armistice to last 
eight weeks was also agreed on, determinable at the will of either 
party. The public property in Monterey, with the exceptions 
mentioned above, was to be transferred to the victors. These terms, 
so favorable to the Mexicans, were granted because Taylor wished 
to spare the effusion of unnecessary blood. The rest of the city 
could have been carried, perhaps, at a comparative small sacrifice 
of life ; but not so the citadel, which was almost impregnable. 
Neither would it have been possible to prevent the escape of the 
enemy's troops, since a route lay open to them in the rear of th4 
town. In a word, considering the inferior numbers of the Ame- 
rican army, which forbade a complete investment of the city, 
the terms allowed Ampudia were not too liberal. The armis- 
tice, though disapproved by the government, was not unwise. 
"It paralyzed the enemy," says Taylor, in his despatches, "during 
a period when, from want of necessary means, we could not possibly 
move." Indeed, after a lapse of six weeks, the American army was 
not prepared to advance in force. This delay was principally the 
fault of the government at home, which did not furnish adequate 
supplies, and means of transportation : an error common to republi- 
can communities, especially at the beginning of a contest. "The 
task of fighting and beating the enemy," says Taylor, in the de- 
spatch already quoted, "is among the least difficult we encounter — 
the great question of supplies necessarily controls all the operations 
in a country like this." Another consideration influenced the Ame- 
rican General, in the capitulation and armistice : it was the belief, then 
general, that the return of Santa Anna heralded a speedy peace. 

The loss of the Americans in the siege of Monterey was one 
hundred and twenty killed, and three hundred and sixty-eight 
wounded. Among the former were Captain Morris, and Major 
Barton, of the regulars, and Colonel Watson, of the volunteers. 
The loss of the Mexicans was never known, but was probably not 
greater. Forty-eight pieces of cannon were captured, besides im- 
mense stores of warlike munitions. When the victors entered the 
city, and became acquainted whh the full character of the defences, 
they were lost in astonishment at their success : and the opinion 
was universal that two thousand American or British soldiers could 



I ! 



52 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



have held the place against thirty thousand of any other nation. 
Especially were the conquerors amazed that they had been able to 
'penetratCj even for an instant, into the eastern half of the city, which 
was a perfect net- work of defences. Worth, on the west, had but 
to carry the two heights in that quarter, to find the route compara- 
tively open before him ; but Taylor, at the corner of every street, 
was met by a fort, or masked battery. Nothing stimulated the 
troops during the siege so much as the calm aspect of the Com- 
mander-in chief, who stood apparently without the least excitement, 
even when bullets were pattering around like hail. The capitulation 
was signed on the 24th, and on the succeeding day, the victorious 
troops marched into the town, the bands playing " Yankee Doodle." 
As the flag of the United States was run up, the guns from the 
Bishop's Palace saluting it, roared across the plain ; while the 
huzzas of the soldiers rolled down the line, and were echoed by the 
distant mountains. 

The result of this victory was to force the Mexican army back to 
San Luis Potosi, a distance of three hundred miles, and to place the 
intermediate country at the mercy of the invaders. The want ot 
supplies, however, continued to embarrass Taylor's operations. At 
last, on the 2d of November, the first wagons he had received since 
he left Corpus Christi, arrived. Six days afterwards, the General 
announced that Saltillo, the capital of the state of Coahulia, would 
be occupied by his army. The provinces of New Mexico, New 
Leon, Tamaulipas and Coahuila were nov/ in possession of the 
Americans. By December, eighteen thousand men were under the 
command of Taylor, scattered along between the Rio Grande and 
Saltillo. It was at this period that the government at home, despair- 
ing of making an impression on the enemy by a further prosecution 
of the war in this direction, determined to strike at the heart of 
Mexico by a march on the capital, by the way of Vera Cruz. The 
leader selected to command this new expedition was Major-General 
Winfield Scott, whose appointment was signified to him on the 18th 
of November, 1846. This officer at once repaired to the scene of 
action, reaching the Rio Grande about the 1st of January, 1847. 
His arrival had been preceded by an order of the war department, 
directing Taylor to place most of his regulars at Scott's command: 
and accordingly, when he reached the theatre of war, he found the 
choicest troops of the army at his disposal. By this movement, the 
force of Taylor was reduced to less than ten thousand men, of whom 
it was noi possible to concentrate more than five thousand at any 
one point. The characte-r of this force was also supposed to be 



MOVEMENTS CF GENERAL WOOL. 



53 



inferior, for the volunteers were generally fresh levies, nor were 
the regulars the veterans of Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, and 
Monterey. 

Even this comparatively small force would not have been left to 
Taylor, but that, at this crisis, he received an accession of numbers, 
by the return of General Wool from his expedition against Chihua- 
hua. Acting on the principle of attacking the Mexican states in 
detail, the government of the United States had, in September, 
despatched General Wool, at the head of three thousand men, of 
whom five hundred were regulars, against Chihuahua, by way 
of Presidio Rio Grande. This force, after enduring incredible hard- 
ships, assembled at Antonio de Bexar, on the 1st of September, 
whence they promptly set forth, and, crossing the Rio Grande at 
Presidio, pushed on, with long and wearisome marches, to the village 
of Santa Rosa. Discovering here that there was no direct route to 




their destination which was available, they turned south towaras 
Saltillo, and finally rested at Monclova, one of the chief towns of 

M — E* 



54 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

Coahuila. Here the Americans, received in the most friendly man 
ner, continued for a month, when Taylor, thinking no good could resuli 
from prosecuting the original expedition, ordered Wool to abandon 
it and move down to Parras, in the neighborhood of Saltillo. Subse- 
quently in December, Wool was directed to advance to the latter 
town. There he arrived just in time to participate in the glorious 
field of Buena Vista. 

In obedience to orders from the war department, Taylor, as early 
as November, had despatched the divisions of Twiggs, Quitman and 
Pillow from Monterey to Victoria, for the purpose of joining at Tam- 
pico the expedition against Vera Cruz. A month later the division 
of Patterson moved from Matamoras in the same direction. Simul- 
taneously Worth's division broke up from Saltillo and formed a 
junction with Scott at the Brazos. It was with melancholy feelings 
that Taylor saw himself deprived of his old companions in arms, 
of whom he took leave in a strain of dignified, but touching elo- 
quence; Nor was it without forebodings that he beheld them depart. 
Santa Anna had been engaged at San Luis Potosi in collecting an 
army, which was now said to amount to twenty -two thousand men ; 
and, on Taylor's marching to occupy Victoria, had threatened an 
advance, a design which was frustrated by a rapid countermarch of 
the American General to Monterey ; but now, when he found Taylor 
deprived of his regulars, he resolved to issue from his fastness, and 
crossing the desert between San Louis Potosi and Saltillo, to fall upon 
Taylor somewhere near the latter town, and crushing, him by the 
mere weight of numbers, sweep the whole country to the Rio Grande. 
This resolution he formed, though aware of Scott's intentions on 
Vera Cruz ; for he rightly judged that the best diversion would be 
to destroy Taylor's army. These designs became kilown in the 
United States when too late to afford succor to Taylor ; and the 
nation- was filled with horror at what it considered the certain sacri- 
fice of that brave General and his troops. But, as in similar circum- 
stances on the Rio Grande, he had saved himself and army, so now 
he became victor, and against even more overwhelming odds, 

Scott had suggested to Taylor that it would, perhaps, be advisable 
for him, considering his weakened numbers, to concentrate all his 
forces at Monterey. But to this the General was averse. To make 
a retrograde movement would, he knew, encourage the enemy. 
Moreover, just beyond Saltillo the mountains debouch into the plains, 
and at this point, if anywhere, the foe must be repealed. By retiring 
to Monterey, Taylor would have left the lower country open to 



BATTLE OP BUENA VISTA. 55 

Santa Anna, who would have poured his victorious troops promptly 
into it, and besieged the American General in Monterey. He might 
even have swept onward and regained the whole territory to the 
Rio Grande. In such a case immense munitions of war would have 
fallen into the hands of the enemy, while our army, shut up in a narrow 
town, would have been useless. The bolder plan, and that most 
congenial to Taylor, was therefore the wisest, and the one ultimately 
adopted. Accordingly, in the early part of February, the American 
commander, becoming convinced by an attack on Colonel May's 
dragoons at Encarnacion, that the Mexicans were about to resume 
the aggressive, advanced from Saltillo to Agua Neuva,a strong position 
on the road to San Luis Potosi. At this place he remained until the 
21st. His whole force was four thousand and seventy-three, of 
whom less than five hundred were regulars. Having thoroughly 
examined the surrounding country, he selected a mountain pass, 
just in front of the hacienda of Buena Vista, as the most suitable 
spot to meet the foe. This gorge was eleven miles nearer Saltillo 
than Agua Neuva. Wishing, however, to conceal his real purpose 
from Santa Anna, he continued at the latter place until the enemy 
were in sight, when he suddenly fell back to Buena Vista, whither 
the Mexican chief, completely entraped, hastened to follow him. 

The road here becomes a narrow defile. The valley on the right is 
impracticable for artillery in consequence of deep and iniipassable 
gullies with which it is cut up. On the left, a succession of rugged 
ridges and precipitous ravines extends far back toward the mountain 
which bounds the valley in that direction. Hence, neither the artil- 
lery nor cavalry of the enemy could act with effect, while even 
his infantry would be, in part, deprived of the advantage of its nu- 
merical siiperiority. Taylor drew up his troops with great skill. 
Captain Washington's battery was posted to command the road, 
while the first and second Illinois regiments, with the second Ken- 
tucky and a company of Texas volunteers, occupied the crest of the 
ridges on the left and rear. The Arkansas and Kentucky cavalry 
were posted on the extreme left, near the base of the mountain. The 
reserve was composed of the Indiana brigade, the Mississippi rifle- 
men, the first and second dragoons, and the light batteries of Sher- 
man and Bragg. The little army had scarcely been thus distributed, 
when the advanced columns of the Mexicans appeared in sight, and 
when night fell, their interminable hne was still visible, stretching 
far back to the utmost horizon. The sight would have appalled 
ordinary hearts; but the Americans reflected that the day was the 



56 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO, 



anniversary of the birth of Washington, and, with that thought cam« 
back the heroism of the best age of the republic. 

At eleven A. M., the van of the Mexicans halted in front of the 
American position, and Santa Anna sent a pompous summons to 
Taylor to surrender at discretion. This the American General 
answered in the following pithy terms : " Sir, in reply to your note 
of this date, summoning me to surrender my forces at discretion, I 
beg leave to say that I decline acceding to your request." Santa 
Anna, on receiving this resolute reply, deemed it best to await the 
arrival of his rear columns, as well as to allow a body of troops 
under General Minon, which he had sent by a mountain pass, to 
get between Buena Vista and Saltillo, and cut off the retreat of 
Taylor. Towards evening, however, the Mexican light troops came 
into collision with a portion of the American left, keeping up a 
sharp fire, and climbing the mountain side, evidently bent on gain- 
ing our flank. Three pieces of Washington's battery, and the second 
Indiana regiment being detached to strengthen this point, the enemy 
was checked, thougli desultory nuisketry discharges, enlivened by an 
occasional shell thrown from the enemy, continued until night set in. 
Being now convinced that no serious attack would be made until 
morning, Taylor retired in person to Saltillo, for he was anxious 
respecting the defence of that place. He took with him the Missis- 
sippi regiment, and a squadron of the second dragoons. The re- 
mainder of the army bivouacked on the field, without fires, though 
the night was intensely cold. While they lay on their arms and endea- 
vored to snatch a few hours slumber, the low hum of the enemy's 
thousands came borne on the wind that wailed through the gorge of 
the mountain, as if foreboding disaster and death. Many a brave 
man listened to its ominous sounds, who, on the morroAV, was still 
and cold. 

The dawn of the 23d had scarcely broken when long columns of 
the Mexicans were seen creeping along the mountain side, on the 
American left, obviously with the intention of outflanking it. In- 
stantly the ridges in that quarter began to sparkle with the fire of 
our riflemen, and for two hours, a desultory, but obstinate conflict was 
maintained, neither party perceptibly gaining ground. To cover his 
real intentions, Santa Anna now advanced a strong column against 
our centre, but this attack was soon repelled by the rapid discharges 
of Washington's battery. While it was going on, however, he pro 
ceeded to execute his main design, which was to pierce the Ameri- 
can left, by pouring his columns in overwhelming and unintermii^ 



BATTLE OF BtJENA VISTA. 57 

ted numbers upon that point. Successive waves of infantry and 
cavalry accordingly came beating against it. For awhile nothing 
could resist the tide. In vain the artillery, galloping up within 
musket range, swept the advancing columns ; as fast as one Mexican 
fell, another took his place ; and the living torrent rolled forward, 
apparently undiminished in volume. Soon the sea of assailants reach- 
ed the artillery, broke around it, and threatened to engulf men and 
guns. A corps of infantry, ordered to the support of the artillerists, 
was involved in a cross fire, and driven back with immense slaugh- 
ter. The wild surge now came roaring on. The second Indiana 
regiment mistaking a command, retreated in confusion ; the artille- 
rists were swept away, leaving one of their pieces behind; and an 
ocean of lancers and infantry, pouring resistlessly along the base of 
the mountain, bore back the American arms, and spreading over 
every available point of land, flowed even to our rear. The stoutest 
hearts quailed at the sight. Victory seemed irrevocably gone. 

At this eventful crisis, Taylor arrived on the field from Saltillo : 
his approach having been hastened by the increasing roar of battle. 
His veteran eye instantly comprehended the imminency of the peril. 
The Mississippi regiment, which accompanied him, was ordered to 
the extreme left, where the fight hung quivering in the balance ; and 
this noble band of heroes, advancing with loud shouts, for a time 
checked the day. The second Kentucky and a portion of Bragg's 
battery had already been detached by Wool to this point. Bragg, 
in conjunction with Sherman, firing from the plateau, was now 
tearing huge gaps in the flank of the advancing enemy. The con- 
flict soon became terrible. The shrieks of those wounded by the 
artillery; the crashing and hissing .of the grape ; the sharp rattle of 
the musketry; the yells of the Mississippians; and the wild huzza of 
the charging cavalry combined to make a scene of excitement and 
horror indescribable. Foremost in the charge were the Mississippi- 
ans, who, on this day, performed prodigies of valor. A.t last, sur- 
rounded by countless numbers, they were on the point of being 
borne down, when they were reinforced by the third Indiana 
regiment and a piece of artillery. The tide of battle was now 
checked; then fluctuated; and then began to turn. TJie enemy 
made the most desperate efl'orts to redeem the day. Again and 
again his lancers swooped on our infantry, but, met by a rolling fire, 
wheeled and fled, a hundred riderless horses galloping wildly away 
at each repulse. Again and again the infantry charging with levelled 
bayonets, fell back staggering from the wall of fire and steel they 



58 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



met. At last, the Mexican column was severed in two, and thai 
portion in front of om* line began a retreat. 

The van, however having already reached the rear of the Amen, 
cans, made a bold effort yet to secure the day, by attacking the camp a* 
Buena Vista, hoping thus to strike terror into our army and perhaps 
call it from its position to the defence of its stores. The main body 
of the Americans however kept its station ; but May, with the Ar- 
kansas and Kentucky cavalry, supported by two pieces of artillery, 
hastened to defend the threatened point. The assailants were soon 
repulsed, and driven to seek refuge in the mountains. May now 
returned to the left, where the other portion of the enemy's Une 
was still struggling to retire. But the Americans, from being the 
conquered, had now become the conquerors; and were making 
efforts, which promised to be successful, to cut off the whole column, 
five thousand strong. The retreating masses, hemmed in among the 
ravines, presented a fair mark for the artillery, which slaughtered 
them in heaps. When May, with his victorious troops, came 
rushing upon them, they abandoned all hope ; and would have 
surrendered at discretion ; but that Santa Anna, perceiving their 
peril, hastened to send a flag of truce to Taylor, who ordered the 
firing to cease. When Wool, however, who rode forward to enquire 
the meaning of this message, had partially traversed the distance 
between the American and Mexican positions, he noticed, to his 
surprise, that the enemy had not ceased firing, and that the column 
was availing itself of the parley to retire along the mountain. He 
saw, at once, the disingenuous trick of which the Americans had 
been made the victims. But it was now too late. The enemy had 
extricated himself: and Wool, unable to reach Santa Anna, returned 
to Taylor. 

The grand effort of the day had thus signally failed; and now the 
action paused for a space. The Americans, wearied by so many 
hours' fighrtng, and expecting fresh columns of the enemy to make 
a new attempt on their left, were directing all their attention to that 
quarter, Avhen Santa Anna, suddenly concentrating his reserves in 
front, hurled them on our centre, now the weakest point of our 
position. Amid a tremendous fire of artillery, this splendid column, 
five thousand strong, advanced to the attack. Well aware that on 
this last effort hung the fortunes of the day, and knowing that the 
immediate eye of their leader was upon them, the Mexicans came 
on with an intrepidity that even surpassed that of their bravest 
displays heretofore, and all had been courageous. The Americans, 



BATTLE OF BUENA VISTA. 59 

wholly unprepared for this demonstration, stood aghast at the endless 
line of lancers and infantry. The first shock fell on the second 
Kentucky and first Illinois, supported by O'Brien's artillery. Fo! 
awhile these few heroes bore up against the tempest, but were then 
driven wildly before it : the infantry flying in confusion, and the 
artillerists abandoning their guns, which remained in possession of 
the foe. Again the Americans made a stand. But nothing could 
prevail against the overwhelming numbers of the Mexicans : like a 
mighty tempest they rushed along : and the little bands of Hardin 
and McKee were whirled from their path as leaves in a hurricane. 
The day seemed irretrievably lost. All that could be done was for 
Washington's battery, from a neighboring plateau, to pour in a close 
and well directed fire on the advancing foe, and thus cover, in parr, 
the retreat of the Americans. 

In this crisis the calm heroism of Taylor saved the army. He had 
left the plateau, just before, but the sharp detonations of the artillery 
now recalled him; and he saw, with a glance, that ruin impended. 
The dyke was already breached, and the water rushing in ! He 
threw himself, as it were, into the gap. Ordering up Bragg's artil- 
lery, that officer approached at full gallop, and thundering ahead 
into the smoke, unlimbered within a few yards of the enemy. The 
spectators held their breath at the fearful proximity. Opening with 
grape and canister, Bragg, for a moment staggered the Mexicans; 
but it was only for a moment : with howls of rage their thousands 
rushed on, and, in another minute, would have trodden the brave 
artillerists under foot. Alarmed for his guns, Bragg turned for succor 
to Taylor ; but the latter had none to give. " A little more grape,'^ 
was his memorable reply: ''a little more grape, Captain Bragg." 
At the second discharge the guns opened lanes through the enemy ; 
and at the third he turned and fled in horror. Tears ran down the 
cheeks of Taylor at the happy sight. The day was won. It only 
remained to finish the victory. The Mississippi regiment, which had 
hurried up at the first alarm, reached the plateau at titiis crisis, and 
throwing in a murderous volley, helped to complete the discomfiture 
of the foe. The wearied Americans were soon undisputed masters 
of the field. Night fell, a welcome blessing. The wounded were borne 
off to Saltillo ; and the victors slept on their arms, again without 
fires, though the thermometer was below the freezing point. 

During the day, General Minon had made his projected demon- 
stration against Saltillo, but without success ; and now, finding that 
his superior was defeated, he hastened to Withdraw his troops. 



60 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



Taylor had expected that Santa Anna would renew the battle m 
the morning ; but, in the night, the latter withdrew to Agua Neuva. 
No pursuit was attempted. To have repelled the enemy was 




BRAGQ ASKING SUCXIOR. 



prodigy enough ; beiSides, the Americans were completely exhausted. 
Our loss in this battle was two hundred and sixty-seven killed, four 
hundred and fifty-six wounded, and twenty-three missing: among 
the former were Colonels Clay, Yell, Hardin, McKee, and Captain 
Lincoln, Assistant Adjutant-General. All the troops distinguished 
themselves : indeed, great was the glory, and difficult to apportion. 
The loss of the enemy was estimated at fifteen hundred. No greater 
battle than Buena Vista has ever been fought on this continent. 
The enemy were five times the numbers of the Americans, and 
were chiefly regulars, while our forces were principally volunteers 
Our position, though strong, was not impregnable, as was proved by 



OPERATIONS OF GENERAL TAYLOR. 61 

its being turned. The victory is to be attributed, in a great measure, 
to the artillery, which seemed to possess a ubiquitous power, and 
thrice saved the day. 

Two days after the battle, Santa Anna abandoned Agua Neuva 
and began a retreat on San Luis Potosi, which city he gained with 
less than half the army he had set out with two months before. 
His repulse at Buena Vista vindicated the wisdom of Taylor's 
views ; and saved the country from reverting to its original posses- 
sors. It preserved, too, the lives of thousands. The triumph of 
Santa Anna would have led to the annihilation of the whole Ameri- 
can army. Every soldier would either have been massacred on the 
field, or would subsequently have fallen a prey to the rancheros, 
who, at the first intelligence of our disaster, would have risen like a 
swarm of hornets from Saltillo to the Rio Grande. The influence 
of this battle was felt throughout the war. In it the best troops of 
Mexico were destroyed, and the prestige of Santa Anna's name bro- 
ken forever. The Generals who followed Taylor had to contend 
with troops already half beaten by the remembrance of Buena Vista ; 
while they led soldiers, whose constant thought it was, to rival, if 
possible, the glories of that day. 

The country between Saltillo and Matamoras continued in pos- 
session of the Americans from this period until the end of the war. 
On the 2nd of March, near Ceralvo, a Mexican force, about fifteen 
hundred strong, under General Urrea, attacked Major Giddings and 
two hundred Americans, convoying a train of one hundred and fifty 
wagons. After a desperate conflict the Americans proved victorious, 
with a loss of seventeen, the enemy loshig forty. Taylor, on hearing 
of this bold incursion, hastened to pursue Urrea ; but the latter suc- 
ceeded in making his escape beyond the mountains. The American 
commander now retired to Walnut Springs, near Monterey, where 
he remained during the summer. Fiom this place, on the 31st of 
March, he issued a proclamation, addressed to the inhabitants of 
Tamaulipas, Nuevo Leon, and Coahuila, declaring that, in future, 
they should be held responsible for all trains cut ofl". This procla- 
mation put an end to the system of guerilla warfare in that region. 
The capture of Vera Crnz, and Scott's subsequent advance on the 
capital, having directed the attention of the Mexicans to another 
quarter, the army of Taylor was left almost without occupation. 
He had, however, never abandoned the hope of being able to march 
on San Luis Potosi, and in August was completing his preparations 
for this event, when Scott made a second draft on him for troops, 

M — F 



62 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



and left him powerless for any act of aggression. In the autumn he 
returned to the United States on leave of absence; and before his 
furlough expired, peace was declared. 

During the autumn of 1846 and the spring of 1847, the gulf fleet 
captured Tampico, Alvarado and Tuspan. The first of these cap 
tures was made while Commodore Connor was in command of the 
fleet : the others were made by Commodore Perrv. 




■ 





SAN FRAKCISCO. 



BOOK III. 



CONQUEST OF NEW MEXICO AND CALIFORNIA. 




'AR had scarcely been de- 
clared when the government 
of the United States resolved 
on the conquest of Upper 
California and New Mexico, 
provinces on which the ambitious eyes 
of different administrations had been 
fixed, almost from the time of Jefferson. 
For this purpose two expeditions were 
organized, under the commands respec- 
tively of Generals Wool and Kearney. 
The first was intended to operate against Chihuahua. We have 
alreajy traced its history, and the causes of its failure. The other 
had a more imposing errand, for its destination was threefold its 

63 



64 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



II 



first being to reduce Santa Fe, its next to send a column to co-operate 
with Wool, and its ultimate one to cross to the Pacific and achieve 
the conquest of California. 

Upper California extends for a distance of ten degrees along the 
Pacific coast, with a mean breadth of six hundred and twenty miles. 
Its lower boundary is at the river Gilas, about the thirty-second de- 
gree of north latitude ; while its upper is at the Snowy mountains 
that bound Oregon on the south, near the forty-second degree The 
breadth of Upper California at the River Gilas is about five hundred 
miles, but it gradually widens as it extends north, until it becomes 
eight hundred across at its upper extremity. Of this vast territory, 
occupying an area of five hundred thousand square miles, but 
little is known, except of that portion lying along the Pacific coast 
between the mountains and the sea, and which forms a strip of land 
from forty to eighty miles in width, and extending six hundred miles 
from north to south. The immense table-land, which stretches east- 
ward from the Pacific chain to the lofty peaks of the Sierra Madre, 
has been but little explored ; yet wherever visited has been found 
to be a sandy desert, sprinkled with salt lakes, reminding the travel- 
ler of the vast, sterile plains of Central Asia. The population of this 
arid wilderness is composed of a few miserable Indians, who manage 
to subsist on roots, and occasionally on game. The whole of Upper 
California did not contain, at the beginning of the war, fifty thousand 
souls. 

That strip of Upper California, however, which skirts the sea-coast 
is comparatively fertile. The mean temperature here is about fifteen 
degrees higher than in the same latitude on the Atlantic coast. There 
is little rain : two years have been known to elapse without a shower. 
Generally, however, from November to April, m what is called the 
rainy season, considerable quantities of water fall. In the summer, 
the heavy dews, which rise from the sea every night, prevent the 
country from becoming parched. Snow is seen but rarely. Agricul- 
ture cannot be profitably conducted without irrigation ; hence the 
country hitherto has been principally devoted to grazing. Wheat, 
however, and the smaller grains, thrive well. There is only one 
really good harbor on the coast, the bay of San Francisco ; but this 
is sufficiently capacious for the navies of the world. The other ports, 
Monterey, Santa Barbara, and San Pedro, are mere road-steads, 
where the anchorage is so insecure, that on the approach of a norther, 
the Vessel that does not slip its cable and gain an offing in time, is 
sure to be wrecked. The rivers of this strip of land are generally 
mountain torrents, half dry in summer, flowing westwardiy into 



MOrEMENTS OF GENERAL KEARNET. 65 

the Pacific ; but there are two streams of more importance, the Bue- 
naventura and Sacramento, which run north and south, emptying 
into the bay of San Francisco. They drain the valley, between the 
mountains and Pacific, for an extent of nearly four hundred miles. 

New Mexico is bounded on the west by Upper California, and 
on the east by the territories of the United States. It is but a com- 
paratively small strip of land, chiefly confined to the higher waters 
of the Rio Grande, and containing only forty-four thousand square 
miles. The population is not quite one hundred thousand. The 
capital is Santa Fe. The temperature of New Mexico is very cold, 
in consequence of its elevation above the sea ; and for the same rea- 
son the soil is not very fertile. The people live in houses of sunburnt 
brick. Their habits are generally primitive. A vast trade, between 
the United States and the richer and more southern province of Chi- 
huahua, was formerly carried on through Santa Fe, by caravans to 
St. Louis, across the prairies of the great western territory. 

The expedition under General Kearney assembled at Fort Leaven- 
worth, on the Missouri river, in June, 1846 ; and on the 30th of that 
month began its march to Santa Fe, a distance of a thousand miles. 
The numbers of this force, called " The Army of the West,^' ulti- 
mately reached twenty-seven hundred ; but Kearney actually began 
his march with sixteen hundred, the rest being left to join at Santa 
Fe. They were all volunteers, except two companies of dra- 
goons, and a battalion of artillerists. The route, for the first six 
hundred miles, lay over vast plains, occasionally presenting a cover- 
ing of short, dry grass ; occasionally exposing only the arid soil ; and 
occasionally, though at rare intervals, welcoming the weary travel- 
ler with the sight of limpid streams fringed with trees. A stray 
buff'alo on the distant horizon, or an Indian scout on the look-out, 
now and then broke the monotony of the scene. On the 1st of 
August the expedition reached Bent's Fort, on the Arkansas. In 
this adventurous march the infantry had outstripped the cavalry 
The former had marched with such precision as to arrive on the 
very day fixed by the General. The road, after leaving Fort Bent, 
changes its character. The country becomes mountainous ; the tree- 
less plains disappear ; and forests of spruce and other evergreens 
throw their gloomy shadows over the way. The regions now tra- 
versed were nevertheless even more desolate than the plains below 
Frequently for twenty miles there was not a spring ; and in one 
instance, a whole day passed without meeting wood, water, or grass. 
Yet glimpses of magnificent scenery occasionally greeted the eye. 
At the pass of the Raton a landscape so sublime burst on the adven- 
M— F* 18 



'■I 



66 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



turers that they paused involuntarily with exclamations of rlehght 
High above beetled perpendicular cliffs, the eagle sailing along whose 
summits seemed dwindled to a wren ; while, in the far distance 
Pike's Peak, with its white limestone ledges, gUttered in the sun,' 
like some snowy palace of fairy land. 




JSKXT S For.T. 



Kearney had received information that Armijo, the Governor of 
Santa Fe had prepared a force of four thousand men to repel the in- 
vasion : accordingly when, ten days after leaving Bent's Fort, he 
began to approach the Mexican settlements, he moved with propor- 
tionate caution. But no enemy was met. Armijo, indeed, had 
advanced from Santa Fe, and taken post in a strong position, an 
eminence commanding a defile only forty feet wide, through which 
the Americans would have to march. But the heart of the Mexican 
leader failed as the crisis approached, and suddenly abandoning 
hi5 army, he fled, with a hundred dragoons, to Chihuahua. On the 
18th of August, Kearney entered Santa Fe unopposed. He marched 
immediately to the palace, opposite the great square, and ordering 



GENERAL KEARNEY IN NEW MEXICO. 67 

the United States flag to be hoisted, took possession of New Mexico 
in the name of his government. Tlie next day he addressed the 
people, declaring that he came to benefit the poor and rich alike, by 
establishing a free government. He then absolved the citizens from 
their allegiance to Mexico, declared himself their Governor, and 
claimed them from that time forth, as citizens of the United States. 
He followed this with a proclamation to the same effect, on the 22nd; 
which subsequently became a theme of controversy in Congress. 
In his summary proceeding there was, unquestionably, more of the 
soldier than the civilian ; but, in a crisis like that in which Kearney 
found himself, prompt and decided conduct, even if it trespasses the 
bounds of law, is better than timorous measures, which only win the 
contempt of a foe. He should, however, have occupied the territory 
merely as a conquered province until a peace, a re-conquest, or final 
instructions from Congress. Thus, in the space of fifty days, an 
army, not seventeen hundred strong, marched nearly a thousand 
miles, for most of the time through an inhospitable desert, and con- 
que];ed a province of one hundred thousand souls without firing a 
gun. But, wonderful as was this achievement, it was nothing 
compared to others we have yet to relate ; and which almost surpass 
the boundaries of romance. 

Kearney now occupied himself with organizing a civil govern- 
ment for New Mexico and framing a code of laws. He was 
interrupted, for awhile, by a false alarm of the approach of Armijo. 
During the delay he sent an expedition against the Navahoe 
Indians, near the Rocky Mountains, and overawed that proud tribe, 
the terror of the people of Santa Fe. Having at last completed his 
labors, and received intelligence of the approach of his expected 
reinforcements, he began to make preparations for the contemplated 
march against Upper California. He first appointed Charles Bent 
Governor of New Mexico. He next assigned a battalion of infantry 
and the battalion of artillerists to remain at Santa Fe in garrison. 
Colonel Doniphan, with his regiment, on the arrival of the reinforce 
ments, was directed to proceed to Chihuahua and effect a junction 
with General Wool. He chose Sumner's squadron of dragoons, 
three hundred strong, with two howitzers, to accompany himself, 
leaving orders for the Mormon battalion, and Captain Hudson's 
company to follow. On the 25th of September, having finished his 
labors at Santa Fe, Kearney set forth, with his small escort, for a 
journey of a thousand miles, across the continent to the Pacific. 
We shall leave him, threading the vast wastes of his lonely and 
desert route, in order to follow Doniphan and his band of heroes 



68 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



on their march to Chihuahua: a march which, considering the 
extent of country traversed, the hostile populations subdued, and the 
battles won against overwhelming odds, stands without a parallel in 
history, excelling the retreat of the ten thousand under Xenophon, 
as much as that surpasses ordinary enterprises. 




Chihuahua is a city of about thirty thousand inhabitants, the capi- 
tal of the state of that name, and formerly the residence of the Cap- 
tain-General of the Northern Provinces, under the vice-regal 
government. Hither, in 1807, Lieutenant Pike had been carried a 
captive ; here, forty years after. Colonel Doniphan was to enter as a 
conqueror. So scanty was the geographical information respecting 
Northern Mexico, that when Doniphan left Santa Fe, he was com-' 
paratively ignorant of the character of the country to be traversed : 
all that he knew, was that Chihuahua lay hundreds of miles to the 
south, and that he had been ordered to go there. That the interme 
diate population was hostile ; that a vast and melancholy desert had 
obe overcome 5 that rivers had tabe crossed, mountains scaled, and 
fortified passes taken ; these things, though partly foretold by the 



OPERATIONS OF COLONEL DONIPHAN. 69 

natives, and partly conjectured by himself, did not, for a moment, 
damp the ardor of his adventurous soul. He began his march at the 
head of eight hundred men, on the 17th of December, 1846. Hi? 
route lay first along the Rio Grande to Fra Christobal, and thence 
downwards, in the direction of the Paso del Norte, within twenty 
five miles of which, at Bracito, he fought his virgin battle. But, 
prior to this, his troops had encountered what was almost sufficient 
alone to immortalize them. For ninety miles they had traversed 
that vast desert, known in the poetical language of the country as 
el Jornada de los muertos, the journey of the dead ; where the 
bones of famished animals and murdered men whitened the long 
expanse, and where not a drop of water or blade of grass met the 
eyes of the travellers. As they hurried across the arid tract, they 
remembered that it was here the Texan prisoners, under Salazar, 
had endured the most horrible sufferings. Approaching Bracito, 
they were suddenly assailed by a force of the enemy, supposed to be 
a thousand strong. The Americans were dispersed gathering wood, 
when the alarm of the enemy's approach was given. Instantly 
forming into hne, they awaited the charge. As soon as the foe was 
within range, they opened a terrible fire of musketry, and main- 
tained the vollies with such spirit, that, at the third round, they were 
left masters of the field. Among the spoils was a piece of artillery, 
and more welcome than all, ample stores of bread and wine, with 
which Christmas was held as high festival. 

On the 27th of December, Doniphan entered Paso del Norte, a 
town of about three thousand inhabhants. He was yet three hun- 
dred miles from Chihuahua. Here the conquerors allowed them- 
selves a month's repose, luxuriating in the green fields, pleasant 
orchards, and inviting vineyards of the vicinity. But their halt was 
not without its anxiety, and was occasionally marked by drudgery 
and toil. Doniphan wished to hear from Wool, but waited in vain . 
that General, as we have seen, haviiig turned aside, had never 
reached Chihuahua. He also expected a reinforcement of artillery 
from Santa Fe, and this, on the first of February arrived, having 
overcome, in its turn, perils almost incredible. The combined 
force, now amounting to nine hundred and twenty-four men, after a 
breathing spell of eight days, resumed its march, and for the next 
three weeks stretched tirelessly on towards its destination. The 
route, which, for the first twenty -five miles, lay though cultivated 
vallies, soon entered a sterile region, but still the little band of heroes 
pressed forward. At last, on the 28th of February, when within 
fifteen miles of Chihuahua, a strong body of Mexicans was discov 



«l/ 



1 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. .' 

ered diawn up in an almost impregnable situation, on a ridge 
between the rivers Sacramento and Arroyo Seco. As the position 
commanded the road, and could not be turned, Doniphan had no 
resource but to attack. His men had crossed the Seco, and were 
deploying on the table-land, when a column of Mexican lancers, 
eight hundred strong, dashed from its cover, and galloped furiously 
on the American right. Instantly the artillery under Major Clark, 
consisting of six pieces, opened its fire, and soon the mountains 
echoed the explosions witb stunning repetitions. Neither the first 
nor second discharge, however, could shake the foe, who, closing his 
ranks, came thundering on ; yet so teriible was the slaughter at the 
third round, that he broke and fled in confusion to a redoubt in his 
rear. Here, however, he rallied. But the Americans, flushed with 
success, followed in pursuit, the howitzer battery unlimbering 
within fifty yards of the enemy. Appalled at this daring, the Mexi- 
cans, after a short struggle, abandoned their works and fled to the 
mountains. Two positions yet remained to be carried ; one was 
the Cerro Sacramento, a pile of volcanic rocks, where the enemy 
now placed his artillery to cover the retreat. The fire of the Anieri 
can batteries soon silenced these guns, and then, with loud shouts, 
his last hold, the Rancho Sacramento was successfully stormed 
Thus ended one of the most extraordinary battles of the present 
age. The number of the Mexicans engaged in it was not less than 
fifteen hundred, while their position was worth at least five thou 
sand more. Doniphan had less than a thousand. The loss of thf 
enemy was three hundred killed, besides ten pieces of artillery cap- 
tured by Doniphan. The Americans lost but two killed, and sever 
wounded, a fact which seems incredible, but which is uncontradicted 
On the first of March, Doniphan entered Chihuahua in triumph. Hert 
he remained for six weeks, recruiting his tired forces, and stipulating; 
for the safety of the United States traders, threatening to return and 
inflict the direst vengeance if they were molested. Never, perhaps, 
was a commander in a more singular situation than Doniphan now 
found himself He was a thousand miles from home, in the heart 
of a hostile country, destitute of intelligence from Wool, whom he 
had been sent to recruit, and without any way of opening commu- 
nication with him, except by beginning a new march of nearly 
equal length to that just passed, through territories filled with ene- 
mies, and presenting a thousand natural difficulties. Moreover, he 
had neither stores nor money. But nothing could dismay this un- 
conquerable leader. He knew that Taylor was somewhere in the 
advance, hundreds of miles distant, and he resolved to push forward 



Doniphan's return to the united states. 71 

Doniphan was told of Buena Vista, but informed that the Americans 
had been defeated; this, however, he discredited: yet he thought it 
most prudent to send a party in the direction of Sakillo, a distance 
of three hundred and fifty miles, to gain intelligence. This detach- 
ment, led by Lieutenant Collins, accomplished its design, and safely 
returning, brought information that Wool was at SaUillo. Doniphan 
promptly started to join him. He set out on the 25th of April, and 
marching through Cerro Gordo, Mapimi, and Parras, reached Sal 
tillo on the 22d of May. In this last journey he passed over nearly 
the whole table land of Mexico, from west to east; entered and 
occupied numerous towns, the population of almost any one of 
which could have cut off his whole force ; provisioned his army ; 
provided fresh horses; and even obtained the means of victory, and 
all without a military chest. But the most extraordinary act of all 
remains to be told, as a cUmax to these almost romantic achieve- 
ments. At Parras, thirty of his men hearing of a predatory descent 
some of the Camanches had just made, started in pursuit, and over- 
taking the savages, killed seventeen of them, and restored to freedom 
eighteen captives, besides rescuing their flocks. The story of this 
chivalrous act would not be complete were we to omit the fact that 
the kindness of the people of Parras, to some sick soldiers left there 
by General Wool, first prompted the Americans to avenge the inroad 
of the Indians. The narrative of such an incident as this repays a 
historian for having too frequently to record traits less noble. 

Doniphan remained but three days at Saltillo, and on the 25th of 
May marched for Monterey. Here this brave corps was complimented 
in a public order by General Taylor, who allowed them to carry home as 
trophies, and in consideration of their gallantry and noble bearing, the 
seventeen pieces of artillery they had taken from the enemy. Pursuing 
his march, Doniphan reached Matamoras about the first of June, 
having completed the whole distance from Chihuahua, nine hundred 
miles, in forty-five days. At the Rio Grande his volunteers embarked 
for New Orleans, where they arrived on the 16th of June. Here 
the volunteers were received with enthusiasm. They were now 
mustered out of the service of the United States, and embarked in 
steamboats for St. Louis. The news of their approach preceded 
them, and when they landed on the 2d of July, the whole city came 
out to meet them. Flags floated at every corner, the bells rang 
joyousxy, and a public banquet was given, at which Senator Bentoa 
pronounced a glowing eulogium on their deeds. Thus, after an 
absence of a year, in which they explored countries almost unknown, 
and achieved actions worthy of the greatest heroes of antiquity, the 



T2 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



volunteers of Doniphan returned quietly to private life. In vam do 
we search history for an exhibition of superior daring and patriotism 

While Doniphan had been pursuing his march, however, events 
of the most sanguinary character had occurred in New Mexico. The 
reinforcements from Missouri had been under the command of Colo- 
nel Price, who, on Doniphan's departure from Santa Fe, became 
superior officer. The Americans, however, suffered so much from 
sickness, that before Christmas, there were but five hundred in the 
capital fit for duty. The Mexicans, who, though appearing to con- 
sent to a change of masters, had only been dissimulating to gain 
time, now thought this a favorable opportunity to recover their 
national independence. A conspiracy was first projected for Christ- 
mas, but was revealed, and most of the ringleaders taken into cus- 
tody. On the 19th of January, however. Governor Bent, with five 
other persons, was murdered at Tao^, a small town in the vicinity 
of Santa Fe. On the same day nine others were butchered at. other 
places. The country rose in insurrection, the populace breathing 
vengeance against the Americans and all Mexicans who had 
accepted office under the new government. In this crisis. Colonel 
Price concentrated his forces, and marched boldly to meet the insur- 
gents. On the 23d of January he had his first engagement with 
them at the village of Covoda, defeating fifteen hundred, with a force 
of but three hundred. His loss was but two, that of the foe thirty- 
six. Pursuing his advantages, he overtook the insurgents on the 
29th, at La Joy a, a strong mountain pass, where he again defeated 
them, with disproportionate slaughter. The enemy still presenting 
a hostile front, though retiring. Colonel Price followed them to 
Taos, which they abandoned on his approach, and took refuge at 
the Indian village of Pueblo de Taos, a short distance ofi". 

This was a strongly fortified post. The key to it was a church, 
and two pyramidal structures, seven or eight stories high, each story 
being pierced for rifles. The whole was surrounded by a wall pierced 
in like manner. On the 3rd of February the siege began by a can- 
nonade on the part of the Americans, which, however, for want of 
immunition, was soon intermitted. But on the 4th, Colonel Price 
advanced to the attack, determined to conquer or perish. His force 
was four hundred and fifty ; that of the enemy six hundred. After 
battering the walls for two hours. Price ordered an assault on the 
church, v/hich was repulsed, Captain Burgwin being mortally wound 
ed. As yet there was no practicable breach, but ladders being 
planted, the men dauntlessly cu< small holes with their axes ana 
thrjw fire int43> the edifice. The six-pounder was, st last, run up 



MOVEMENTS OF CAPTAIN FREMONT. 



73 



within sixty yards, and a gap made. Through this a load of grape 
was discharged into the church. The smoke had not yet blown off, 
and the shrieks of the wounded were still heard, when Lieutenant 
Dyer, springing to the front, called on the stormers to follow him, 
and plunged into the abyss. The enemy now abandoned the church, 
pursued by the victors, who massacred all they overtook. Night fell, 




BATTLK OK PUEBLO CE TOAS. 



and checked the effusion of blood. In the morning the Mexicans 
sued for mercy: and the insurrection was at an end. The loss of 
the enemy at Pueblo de Taos was one hundred and fifty killed : tha 
of the Americans seven killed, and forty-five wounded, of whom 
many subsequently died. This campaign lasted nineteen days ; and 
during the whole of it the snow was two feet deep, and the moun- 
tains almost impassable ; yet the men bivouacked in the open air. 
Colonel Price, for his skill and gallantry, was subsequently made a 
Brigadier. 

We must now turn to California, whither we left General Kearney 
proceeding; but where he found, on his arrival, the province con- 
quered to his hand. This had been effected principally by Captain 

'M G 



74 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



Fremont, of the topographical corps of engineers. That gentleman, 
already distinguished by his explorations on the great western waters, 
had left the United States in the autumn of 1845, to seek a new route to 
Oregon, more southerly, and therefore less inclement than that usual- 
ly followed by emigrants. He pursued his journey without moles- 
tation, until he arrived near Monterey, in California, towards the 
close of January, 1847. His appearance aroused the suspicions of 
the Commandant, De Castro, to allay which Fremont left his men a 
hundred miles behind and paid a personal visit to this official. The 
Commandant pretended to be satisfied with his explanations, where- 
upon he returned to his party and advanced to within thirty miles of 
Monterey. Here, however, he was warned by the American Consul at 
that post, that De Castro was preparing an armed force to capture 
him. He immediately seized a strong position on the summit of the 
Sierra, hoisted the flag of the United States, and prepared to immo- 
late himself with bis companions. But De Castro, after reconnoitre- 
ing his position, declined to attack him, on which Fremont marched 
out of his camp and took the route for Oregon. The Commandant now 
occupied the deserted post, boasting that he had put the Americans 
to flight. 

Fremont left his camp on the 10th of March, and, moving by slow 
marches, by the 14th of May had reached the Great Tlamath Lake, 
Here, to his surprise, he found himself and party surrounded with 
hostile Indians ; while in front rose the Sierra Nevada, still covered 
with the snows of winter. These obstacles induced him to retrace 
his steps. His return was opportune, for De Castro had resolved to 
attack the American settlers, a fact which assisted Fremont in form- 
ing his resolution to return. He immediately resolved to pro- 
tect his countrymen, and even to retaliate, by seizing the govern- 
ment. His whole force, when he formed this bold design, consisted 
of only sixty-two men. He was ignorant also that war had broken 
out between the United States and Mexico. On the 15th of June 
he surprised and took the military post of Sonoma, capturing, as 
part of the spoils, nine cannon and two hundred and fifty stand of 
arms. Hurrying to the Rio de los Americanos to obtain recruits, he 
heard that De Castro was about to attack Sonoma, where he had 
left a garrison of only fourteen men. He immediately started to its 
relief, with ninety mounted riflemen, and riding night and day, 
reached it in less than thirty-six hours. He was not a minute too 
soon. The vanguard of the enemy, consisting of seventy dragoons, 
under De la Torre, had already crossed the bay, but the riflemen 
charging furiously, the Mexicans were defeated, with a loss of 




THE FALL OF LOS ANGELOS. 75 

twenty. Meantime, two of Fremont's men, sent as an express, had 
been captured by De la Torre, bound to trees, and cut to pieces with 
knives. To avenge this barbarous act, three of De la Torre's sol- 
diers, who had been taken prisoners, were shot. The north side of 
the bay of San Francisco was now free from the foe. Accordingly, on 
the 4th of July, 1846, Fremont, assembling the Americans at Sonoma, 
recommended them to declare the independence of the country. His 
advice was followed ; and in addition, war with Mexico was pro- 
claimed. In the meantime, Congress having ordered a regiment of 
mounted riflemen to be raised, the President bestowed the Lieuten- 
ant-Colonelcy on Fremont. As yet, however, the conquest of Cali- 
fornia was unknown in the United States. 

During these events Commodore Sloat, in command of the Pacific 
squadron had seized Monterey. News of this event flew through 
California and soon reached Fremont. He was now eager to pursue 
De Castro, who had fled south beyond Monterey, with a force of ■ 
five hundred soldiers ; and accordingly, leaving about fifty men in gar- 
rison, he started after the fugitive with one hundred and sixty mounted 
riflemen. When near Monterey, however, he received instructions to 
join Commodore Sloat, but, on his arrival, found that officer relieved 
by Commodore Stockton. The latter approved Freemont's pursuit of 
De Castro, and placed the sloop-of-war Cyane at his service, that he 
might, by sailing down the coast, the more readily overtake the fugi- 
tive. Accordingly, on the 26th of July, he put to sea, with 
seventy marines added to his riflemen. His destination was San 
Diego, four hundred miles south of Monterey and one hundred below 
Pueblo de los Angelos, where De Castro was encamped ; this port 
of debarkation being selected, as it placed Fremont in a position 
either to intercept the Mexican Governor, in case he fled towards 
Lower California, or to turn back on him if he remained at los An- 
gelos, or in its vicinity. A few days after the departure of Fre- 
mont, Stockton sailed in the frigate Congress for the position of De 
Castro. The latter, hearing of the approach of the Americans, broke 
up his camp, and fled to Mexico. On the 13th of August, 1846, 
Stockton, having effected a junction with Fremont, entered los 
Angelos in triumph. Thus fell the capital of California. What 
romance excels the story of such a war ? 

Stockton now proceeded to declare California a territory of the 
United States, and to establish a provisional form of government, 
until the pleasure of Congress could be known. He proclaimed a 
tariff" of duties, and established a tonnage tax on all foreign vessels 
The people were ordered to meet on the 15th of September, and 



76 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



elect officers to govern them under the new constitution. News of 
the declaration of war between the United States and Mexico, hav 




TRIU^.IPHAXT ENTRY INTO PUKBLO LOS A.VSELOS. 



i».g arrived meantime, Stockton thought it necessary to leave Cali- 
fornia, in order to protect American vessels in the Pacific. He 
therefore ordered Fremont to increase his force to three hundred 
men, appointing that officer Governor, after which he withdrew, 
with the squadron, to San Francisco. A garrison of fifty men was 
left at los Angelos, and smaller garrisons at Santa Barbara and San 
Diego. But the American leaders had been in error, as events soon 
proved, when they supposed that California was not only overrun, 
but subdued. Scarcely had Fremont and Stockton left los Angelos, 
when the people rose in insurrection, and compelled the garrison 
there to evacuate the place and sail for Monterey. The news of the 
rising flew through the country, and was eagerly welcomed by the 
Mexicans, so that, in a few days, the whole province south of Mon- 
terey blazed with war. 




Stockton's operations in California. 77 

Stockton, on learning these reverses, lost no time in retracing his 
steps. The frigate Savannah was despatched to los Angelos ; and 
her crew, landing at San Pedro, marched immediately on the capi 
tal. About fifteen miles from the ship, however, they met a supe 
rior force of the foe, and were compelled to retreat, with the loss of 
five killed. Stockton, in person, now hastened to San Pedro in the 
frigate Congress, and landing, moved on los Angelos, dragging six 
of the ship's guns. He met the enemy at the Rancho Seputrida, 
when a few rounds of grape and cannister won the day, the Mexi- 
cans leaving one hundred dead on the field. The enemy was still 
unsubdued, however, and the war continued in a succession of skir- 
mishes. At last, two decisive battles were fought on the 8th 
and 9th of January, 1847, the enemy being routed on both occa- 
sions. The loss of the Americans was twenty killed ; that of the 
enemy eighty. Flores, the defeated General, flying from the field, 
met Fremont advancing to reinforce Stockton, and immediately 
seized the occasion to make a capitulation with the former. The 
Commodore afterwards ratified the compact, though he had be- 
fore refused to treat with Flores, proclaiming him an outlaw, who 
had brolcen his parole, and whom on capturing he should shoot. 

Meantime, General Kearney had arrived in California. We left 
him traversing the lonely and desolate wastes that lie between the 
Rio Colorado and the Pacific. He had journeyed for eleven days, 
when he met an express bearing intelligence to the United States of 
the conquest of California by Freemont and Stockton. Dismissing 
two hundred of his dragoons, he continued his route with the other 
one hundred, and two mountain howitzers. On the 20th of Oc- 
tober he reached the Gilas. This river is bounded by a range of 
lofty mountains, at the foot of which Kearney travelled for nearly 
five hundred miles, until, on the second of November, he gained 
its mouth. He now followed the course of the Colorado for forty 
miles, when he turned off and crossed a desert, destitute of grass or 
water, for sixty miles. On the second of December he reached the 
frontier settlement of California, on the route leading to Senora. 
Three days after, he was met by an express, bringing intelligence 
from Stockton of the insurrection, and informing him of the force 
and position of the enemy. The following day he encountered a 
party of Mexicans one hundred and sixty strong, whom he defeated, 
though not without the loss of three of his officers. On the 11th, 
five days after this battle, he was joined by a reinforcement, 
despatched by Stockton to his aid. Subsequently, in the battles of 
the 8th and 9th of January, 1847, his, and Stockton's combined 
forces, permanently crushed the insurgents. 

M — G* 



78 



THE \rAIl WITH MEXICO. 



The arrival of General Kearney, however, soon led to discord in 
the American camp, for, producing his commission, he claimed to be 
Governor of California. But this demand Stockton and Fremont 
resisted, alleging that the commission would never have been 
granted if the President had known of the conquest. The difficulty- 
was at last terminated by the arrival of Commodore Shubrick, who 
outranked Stockton, and who, favoring General Kearney, transfer- 
red the office of Governor from Fremont to him. The affair, unfor- 
tunately did not terminate here, for Fremont, for charges preferred 
by General Kearney, was, on his return to the United States, tried 
by a court-martial, and ordered to be dismissed the service. The 
President, however, in consideration of the circumstances, remitted 
the punishment. But Fremont declaring that he had done nothing 
to warrant the sentence of the court, refused to accept the mercy of 
the executive, and resigned his Lieutenant-Colonelcy. . 

Kearney continued in California until the 31st of May, 1847, 
when, leaving Colonel Mason of the first dragoons, as Governor, he 
returned to the United States. Mason had been sent out to Califor- 
nia on the 5th of November, 1846, with instructions to Stockton to 
relinquish to him the control of the land operations. Nor was this 
the only measure taken by the government of the United States to 
assert its right over California, and shov/ its secret design, if possibly, 
to retain that important province in the event of a peace. Simulta- 
neously, with the concentration at Fort Leavenworth of the forces 
destined to act against New Mexico, a regiment of volunteers was 
raised in the city of New York, under Colonel Stevenson, and 
embarked for California, it being the intention of the government to have 
them in the Pacific in time to co-operate with Kearney on his arri- 
val there from Santa Fe. Such men only were enlisted for this 
regiment as would be likely to remain in California at the close of 
the war. 

, Thus the policy of the government provided a body of robust 
and adventurous men, who, Uke the military colonists of ancient 
Rome, or the pirates of Scandinavia, went forth to settle on 
tlie lands they conquered. The peace accordingly found them in 
California, where, with those who, principally Mormons, for the 
three preceding years, had emigrated thither, they form the nucleus 
of a mighty Anglo-American population on the shores of the Pacific. 
Perhaps, in the revolution of human affairs, the posterity of these 
adventurers on a distant shore, may become the merchant princes 
who shall monopolize the trade of the Indies, and rival the Medici 
m the days of their glory. 



^ mA 




LANDING OF TROOPS AT VERA CRUZ 



BOOK IV. 



ADVANCE ON THE CAPITAL. 



T had been the belief of the United 
States government, and the opinion 
was very generally shared by the 
people, that a few decisive defeats 
would induce the Mexicans to sue 
for peace. This impression was 
soon found to be erroneous. Ac- 
cordingly, after the fall of Monterey, 
it was resolved to carry the war 
into the heart of Mexico, and dic- 
tate terms of pacification in the 
capital itself Two routes of ap 
proach to the ancient city of the Montezumas lay open to an invader , 
the one through Monterey, Saltillo, and San Luis Potosi, and the 

79 




80 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

Other by way of Vera Cruz and Puebla. The former had the advan- 
tage of being already in part, in our possession, but was made 
objectionable by its extreme length, and by the vast deserts which 
it would be necessary to cross. The latter was both shorter and 
more easily traversed, but the key to this route was Vera Cruz, and 
^erefore the capture of that place was an indispensable preliminary. 
After mature consideration, the government resolved, however, to 
attempt the shorter route, and accordingly began to prepare, with 
great energy, for an expedition against Vera Cruz. To the com- 
mand of this important enterprise it appointed General Scott. 

This officer was at the head of the army, and distinguished not 
less for his military skill than for his energy and courage. When the 
war broke out, he had desired to take the post to which his rank 
entitled him, and lead the soldiers of the United States, in person, on 
the Rio Grande. At first the government had yielded to his wish. 
Accordingly, Scott had made every preparation to leave Washing- 
ton, when an unfortunate difference arose between him and the 
executive, which led to his being ordered to remain at home. But 
even while his services in the field were thus dispensed with, the 
government availed itself of his practical knowledge and untiring 
zeal, in mustering into the service and despatching to the seat of 
war the regiments of volunteers authorized by the act of the 10th of 
May. His appointment to the command of the expedition against 
Vera Cruz, was hailed with applause by the country. The memory 
of his dashing achievements in the war of 1812, inspired a general 
confidence in the success of whatever he would now undertake. 
Scott himself was sanguine of achieving great deeds. His only 
regret was, that in order to execute his plans, it would be necessary 
to deprive Taylor of part of his regulars ; but he threw himself on 
the patriotism of his friend, and with a prophetic exhiliration, 
wrote that he hoped they would meet somewhere in the interior of 
Mexico. 

Scott sailed from New York on the 30th of November, 1846, and 
arrived at the Rio Grande on the 1st of January, 1847. He here 
found that the twelve thousand men whom he deemed necessary to 
secure his success, could not be obtained, unless he deprived Taylor 
of more soldiers than had been at first intended ; accordingly, he 
ordered up Worth from Saltillo with his division of regulars, in addi- 
tion to Twiggs, Patterson, Quitman and Pillow, who were already 
awaiting him at Victoria, or in its vicinity. Having completed all 
the requisite preparations, he concentrated his army at the island of 
Lobos, and embarked them on board one hundred transports for 



lunii 



THE CITY OF VERA CRUZ. 81 

Antonio Lizardo, where they arrived on the 7th of March. The 
General, in company with Commodore Connor, the commander of 
the gulf fleet, immediately made a reconnoisance of the coast, and 
decided to land on the beach due west of the island of Sacrificos. 
The debarkation was effected on the 9th, and rarely has a more 
splendid spectacle been witnessed ; never, indeed, in this hemisphere. 
The day was cloudless. A fresh, yet gentle breeze roughened the 
Gulf, and dissipated the haze of the atmosphere. As the compara- 
tively small fleet in which the soldiers had been crowded for the 
occasion, stood in towards Sacrificos, the rigging of the ships left 
behind, and of all the foreign vessels, was thronged with spectators. 
The difl'erent craft came gallantly to the anchorages assigned them. 
Instantly, as if by magic, the surf boats were seen to dot the water, 
and the troops to descend into them. In a few minutes, four thousand 
five hundredmen were distributed in sixty-seven of these conveyances. 
In the interval, the steamers and gun-boats had stood close in to the 
shore, to cover the landing, in case the enemy, as expected, should 
show himself on the sand hills. As the boats severally received 
their complement, they ranged themselves in a line abreast, awaiting 
the signal to start. It was an exciting moment. Behind them was 
the fleet, alive with lookers on ; to their right, the city of Yera Cruz, 
its steeples filled with eager crowds ; and far, in the same direction, 
the Castle of San Juan de Uiloa, frowning with its hundred embra- 
sures on the scene. Suddenly a gun boomed across the expectant 
silence. The rowers bent to their oars. The line of boats shot for- 
ward ; and after a few minutes of breathless suspense, entered the 
boihng surf. They rose and fell for a second, apparently in wild 
disorder ; the next moment the men were seen leaping into the 
water, and rushing to the shore. No enemy had yet appeared, but 
Worth, who led the advance, formed his men promptly on the 
beach, and as the sun went down, the flag of the United States was 
hoisted, amid the huzzas of army and fleet. The landing continued 
until ten o'clock, the boats making successive trips, and by that 
hour ten thousand men had been debarked. That night the 
Americans bivouacked on the sand. The Mexicans still made no 
demonstrations of attack, but hovered in flying parties around, occa- 
sionally, through the night, waking the invaders by a desultory 
volley. 

The city of Vera Cruz contains one thousand and sixty-three 
houses, and is surrounded with an old castellated wall. Its popu> 
lation, at this time, was seven thousand. In itself it was a place 

of considerable strength, but was rendered more impregnable by the 

19 



82 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

vicinity of the Castle of San Juan, the most celebrated of all Ameri- 
can fortresses. This stronghold is situated on a bar in front of the 
town, at the distance of one thousand and sixty-two yards, and is 
entirely surrounded with water. It was commenced in the year 
1582, and cost fifty milUons of dollars to construct. It was thi last 
possession held by the Spaniards in Mexico, having remain id in 
their keeping long after every foot of soil had been vanquished by 
the insurgents. It had been taken by the French in 1838, in con- 
sequence of an explosion in the magazine, but since that period had 
been repaired, and its equipment of artillery pieces rendered more 
complete. It was said, however, as subsequent events verified, to be 
short of provisions. The attempt to capture such a fortress and the 
city over which it kept zealous guard, was a bold undertaking, 
especially for troops unused to sieges. But the genius of Scott made 
up for all. 

At sunrise, the steamer Spitfire ran in towards the castle, and 
commenced a bombardment, which was returned with spirit. The 
troops on shore soon after began to advance towards the town, and 
form lines around it, amid the hissing of round shot and the roar of 
gigantic shells from the Castle. Every corps had been assigned its 
particular station, and now each took up the designated spot, the 
whole army executing its manosuvres as orderly and quietly as if 
at a morning drill. By the 12th, the investment was complete. The 
lines of siege extended for five miles. During this proceeding, and 
until the 17th, one of the terrible hurricanes of that coast, the well 
known "northers," prevailed, and the men frequently woke at night 
with the tent prostrated, and themselves buried under the ruins. 
During the day, the sand raised in huge drifts, traversed the plains 
like a simoom, and the soldiers were driven to find protection under 
the shelter of the chapparal. At last the storm abated. The heavy 
ordnance was now, for the first time, landed. On the following day 
the trenches were opened. On the 22d, seven mortars were placed 
in battery, at a distance of eight hundred yards. Scott summoned 
the city, on this, in due form. Morales, who was Governor of the 
Castle, as well as the town, took the summons as intended for both, 
and declined. The batteries accordingly opened, and soon the sky 
was traversed by bombs, which, crossing each other, incessantly 
darkened the sun. 

The siege was now pushed with the greatest vigor. Colonel Tot- 
ten of the engineers, superintended the advances, and never, perhaps, 
was such skill seconded so bravely. Scott rode daringly along the 
lines, examining the progress, and inspiring the men. By the 25th, 




BOMBARDMENT OF VERA CRUZ. 



83 



the batteries had been increased to ten heavy guns, nine mortars and 
two howitzers. The bombardment was now at its height. Indeed-, 
since the 22ud, it had been terrible. The incessant thunder of the 
artillery ; the whizzing of bombs ; the plunging of round shot in the 
streets of the city ; the crash of falling houses ; and the roar ofcon-- 
llagrations from buildings set on fire by shells, conspired to produce 
a scene of the most awful yet sublime character. The American 
ships, meantime, kept up a tremendous fire on the town and castle. 
But that fortress, mindful of its former glory, maintained the combat 
without flinching. Firing on the fleet from its sea-front, and on the 
army from its land-side, it blazed a centre of continual flame. Night 




BOMBARDMENT OF VERA CRDZ. 



added new terrors to the scene. The darkened sky was brilUant 
with burning houses in the city ; while bombs, whizzing and whirl- 
ing on high, tracked the heavens with a hundred trails of fire. The 
shells of the castle were gigantic ones, thirteen inches in diameter, and 
traversed the air with a hum which filled all space. The troops 
gazed with awe on these terrible missiles, which, when they exploded, 
tore up the earth like a volcano. Each bomb that fell without injur- 




i 



84 THE WAR WITH MEXlt.*.. 

ing any one, was received with huzzas. And then, in stern and 
ominous silence, the artillerists resumed the work of death. 

By the evening of the 25th, the town had become so untenable, 
that the European Consuls in Vera Cruz applied to Scott to allow 
them, with the women and children, to leave the crumbhng town. 
But this the American General refused, alleging that he had given 
due notice of his intention to bombard the city, and that those who 
remained in defiance of this, had no claim on him to stop the siege 
in order that they might be removed from peril. He stated that 
safeguards had been sent to the Consuls, of which they had refused 
to avail themselves ; that the blockade had been left open for the 
Consuls and neutrals up to the 22nd; and that the case of the 
women and children, with their present unavoidable hardships, had 
been fully considered before a gun was fired. The decision was 
just, though distressing. The memorial of the Consuls betrayed 
that the city was half in ruins. This, indeed, could be seen partial- 
ly from the batteries. The siege, it was evident, approached its 
end. All that night accordingly the bombardment went on with 
increased vigor. There were few sleepers either in the castle or in 
the lines. In the city, women rushed through the streets, frantically 
dragging their children, in vain seeking shelter, for the houses were 
crashing all around them. Some who remained at home were buried 
by falling ruins; others who fled to the church. were driven out by 
the crumbling of the dome; and still others, who thought to find 
safety in deep cellars, were killed by shells, that plunging through 
roof and floor, exploded at last in these recesses under ground. The 
fury of the bombardment may be estimated from the fact, that dur- 
ing the siege the Americans alone consumed three thousand ten- 
inch shells, twenty-five hundred round shot, one thousand Paixhan 
shot, and two hundred howitzer shells. 

On the morning of the 26th, Scott received a flag of truce, making 
overtures for a surrender. Generals Worth and Pillow, and Colonel 
Totten were accordingly appointed commissioners to treat with the 
Mexican General Landero, on whom Morales, the Governor of the 
castle, had devolved this painful duty. The American General 
was not disposed to press hard on* a fallen foe, and accordingly the 
terms were soon arranged. The articles were signed and exchanged 
late on the night of the 27th. By them the city and castle were sur- 
rendered to the Americans, with five thousand soldiers, who became 
prisoners on parole ; all the arms and ammunition were given up to 
the conquerors, besides five hundred pieces of artillery : the garrison 
was, however, permitted to march out with the honors of war, 



CAPITULATION OF VERA CRUZ. 85 

and the flags of the Mexican fort on being struck, were to be saluted 
by their own guns. On the 29th, accordingly, the enenny left the 
city, and laid down his arms in the presence of the Americans. It 
was a glorious day for the latter. The victors were drawn up in 
two lines, facing inwards, a mile in extent, and between these lines 
marched the dejected enemy to the field selected to receive his arms. 
Women and children accompanied the retiring soldiers, almost stag- 
gering under the heavy burdens they carried. The sight sad- 
dened for awhile, even the conquerors. But all melancholy 
thoughts were dissipated when the time arrived to take possession of 
the city and castle. This was done by a part of Worth's division, 
which entered the town with colors flying, and the bands playing 
national airs; while Worth himself, surrounded by a splendid stafl", 
rode at the head, conspicuous for his gallant bearing. As the troops 
advanced, they saw fallen houses, blackened walls, and streets half 
choked with ruins^terrible signs of the extremities to which the 
place had been reduced. When the flag of the United States was 
run up, the air echoed with voiliesof artillery, and as these died off, 
the clang of triumphant music rose to the sky, mingled with ten 
thousand huzzas. 

The loss of the Americans in this siege was sliglit : ten officers 
killed, and several private soldiers. The exact loss of the enemy 
has never been known ; but whatever it was, it fell chiefly among 
non-combatants. It has been said that the castle surrendered too 
soon. Though it might have held out a few days longer, it must ulti- 
mately have fallen, in consequence of its garrison being short of pro- 
visions ; and its Governor acted humanely, if not wisely, therefore, 
in capitulating. The whole siege is a monument of the skill and 
valor of an American army. From the landing on the beach, up to 
the complete investment of the city, the invaders labored under 
unusual difficulties. Destitute of mules or draught horses, the men 
were forced to drag their provisions, and even the munitions of war, 
and this under a tropical sun, and over the loose sands of a sea- 
shore. For seven days the batteries of the enemy played on the 
Americans, without the latter being able to return a shot. The city 
and castle, with garrisons of five thousand men, were finally com- 
pelled to surrender, with the loss of less than a dozen lives to the 
victors. An achievement so brilliant, and won almost solely by the 
resources of science, placed Scott in the foremost rank of military 
commanders. 

Worth was appointed Governor of the captured city. The desire 
of the Commander-in-chief was to advance immediately into the in- 

M — H 



86 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

terior, at the head of a cohimn eight thousand strong ; but he was 
compelled to delay for a fortnight, awaiting the arrival of wagons 
from the United States. At last, on the 8th of April, the van of the 
army, which consisted of Twiggs' division, began its march. The 
other divisions followed rapidly. The route pursued was the great 
highway to the capital, constructed by the Mexican merchants 
before the revolution, but since broken up in many places and left 
without repair. At the distance of a day's ride from Vera Cruz, this 
road crossed an immense stone bridge, known as the Puente Na- 
tional : and here it was expected that the enemy's army, which was 
advancing from the capital, would make a stand. This post, which 
might have been rendered the Thermopylae of Mexico, was left 
undefended; and being immediately occupied by the invaders, opened 
to them a direct highway to the interior. The march of the troops 
after the third day, when they left the plains, was through some of 
the most picturesque scenery in the world. The road rose gradual 
jy, winding along the side of the mountains. High cliifs ascended 
on either hand ; deep abysses yawned below ; and far in the distance 
inland, Orizaba towered eighteen thousand feet above the sea. The 
stifling atmosphere of the low sandy plains around Vera Cruz dis 
appeared, and with it all fear of the vomito. Tropical plants began 
to be scarce, and the well known vegetation of the temperate latitudes 
to supply their place. Mountain torrents leaped from the rocks and 
roared into the ravines below. These delightful visions increased in 
frequency as the army advanced, until at Xalapa, seventy miles 
from Vera Cruz, and at an elevation of four thousand feet above the 
sea, the invaders reached the most beautiful point of their march, 
and rested in what is literally the garden of the world. 

Before advancing into this higher country, however, and immedi- 
ately on leaving the plains, the Americans met and defeated the 
enemy at Cerro Gordo, a strong position, forty-five miles from Vera 
Cruz. Hither Santa Anna, after his defeat at Buena Vista, traversing 
the intermediate country with great rapidity, had arrived in the 
early part of April, with an army of fifteen thousand men. The 
highway winding along the face of the mountain, is commanded by 
numerous elevations, rising one above another ; Cerro Gordo with 
its tower at the further extremity, overlooking all. At every favo- 
rable point Santa Anna had constructed batteries. Twiggs arrived 
in front of this apparently impregnable position, and made a recon- 
noisance, on the 12th of April. He had determined to attack on the 
following morning, but Patterson coming up in the interval, the 
latter concluded to await the approach of Scott. The Commander- 



STORMING OP THE HEIGHTS AT CERRO GORDO. 87 

in-chief made a new reconnoisance, and discovering that an assault in 
front would only lead to useless sacrifice of life, determined, if prac 
ticable, to turn the enemy's position,- by cutting a road to his right, 
which should wind around the base of Cerro Gordo, and debouch 
mto the national road in the rear of the enemy. Accordingly, on the 
14th, this laborious undertaking was begun. The route was nearly 
completed, when, on the 17th, the Mexicans discovered it, and imme- 
diately opened a tremendous fire of grape and musketry on the 
working parties. Twiggs now seized a hill just below Cerro Gordo, 
which not only commanded the new road, but all the Mexican bat- 
teries, except the great one erected on the key of their position. 
That night, as soon as darkness had closed in, a thousand men from 
his division were detailed to drag a twenty-four pound gun, and 
two twenty-four pound howitzers up this almost precipitous hill ; 
a task wnich they performed, after eight hours of incessant labor. 
When morning dawned, the adventurous Americans, who had sunk 
exhausted to slumber, were roused by the reveille in the neighbor- 
ing fort at Cerro Gordo, and cutting away the brushwood which 
concealed their battery, suddenly presented themselves to the aston- 
ished Mexicans. At the same instant they opened a heavy fire on 
all the enemy's batteries ; and, as the stunning reverberations echoed 
through the mountains, their companions in arms below, who had 
only awaited this signal, advanced to execute the several parts 
assigned them in the approaching battle. 

The evening before, in anticipation of fortifying this height, Scott 
had completed his plan of attack, and issued it in an order, breathing 
such calm confidence in victory as since to have become a model 
in war. To Pillow, at the head of the volunteers, was delegated 
the task of moving in front of the enemy along the national road^ 
and attacking the batteries there, endeavor to pierce the Mexican 
line of battle. Twiggs, with his division of regulars, was ordered 
to proceed along the road cut to the right, storm Cerro Gordo, and 
get into the enemy's rear. He was to be supported in this move- 
ment by Shields, at the head of two volunteer regiments, while 
Worth, with his division, acting as a reserve, was to follow the same 
route. No sooner, however, was Twiggs seen advancing, than the 
Mexicans opened a plunging fire on him from Cerro Gordo. Colo- 
nel Harney was promptly ordered to carry that position. At the 
head of the rifles, the first artillery, and the seventh infantry, that 
heroic officer rushed forward and began to ascend the long and diffi- 
cult slope of the hill, in the face of a tremendous fire of artillery in 
front, and a rolling one of musketry on the flanks. The ascent was 
f 



88 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



SO precipitous that the men had to climb ; but they struggled on, 
defended only by the steepness of the hill. The front ranks melted 
away under the awful fire, but the place of the fallen was immedi 




STORMING OF CERRO GORUO. 



ately filled, and the solid column rolling onwards and upwards, sur- 
mounted the hill, and poured its resistless surge over the ramparts. 
As the Americans reached this point, they raised a shout, and 
rushed on the foe with the bayonet. Vasquez, the Mexican Gene- 
ral, fell bravely fighting at the head of his men. Then panic seized 
the enemy. The flags of the first and seventh infantry were already 
planted on the ramparts. Serjeant Henry, plunging through the 
smoke, reached the great flag-stafl", and hurled down the standard 
of Mexico. At the same time a neighboring ascent was gallantly 
carried by the first and second infantry and fourth artillery. The 
sight, seen over the field of battle, was hailed with tempestuous 
shouts, and announced the victory won. 

Pillow's attack in front had proved unsuccessful, though his troops 
fought valiantly ; but courage cannot always avail ; the defences of 
the foe were too strong, and the day went against our men. How- 
ever, the corps of General La Vega, three thousand strong, which 



STORMING OP THE HEIGHTS AT CERRO GORDO. 89 

Santa Anna had confided the defence of the lower batteries, was 
kept employed until Cerro Gordo was won ; and then, finding him- 
self cut off, this brave officer surrendered with his troops. Mean- 
time, Shields, at the head of his volunteers, had passed Cerro 
Gordo during the assault, and pushed rapidly forward towards 
Xalapa, in order to prevent the escape of Santa Anna. But the 
Mexican Commander-in-chief, when the assault of Cerro Gordo began, 
believing the day lost, had fled from the field, and was soon followed 
by most of his army, to the number of eight thousand. Shields, 
finding a fort in front, stormed it, and fell, shot through the lungs; 
but the place was captured, and his troops swept onwards, no longer 
opposed, in pursuit of the fugitives. Shouts of victory now rose on 
every hand. Worth, coming up with the reserves, passed the compara- 
tively exhausted troops of Twiggs ; and pressed foremost in the 
chase, not stopping until within sight of Xalapa. The next day the 
road was seen strewed, for miles, with the dead bodies of the Mexi- 
can lancers, who had been sabred by Harney's dragoons. 

The spoils of this victory were immense. Five Generals ; a vast 
number of inferior officers; three thousand soldiers; innumerable 
small arms ; forty-three pieces of cannon, and the private carriage of 
Santa Anna were among them. Scott, indeed, was embarrassed 
with the magnitude of the booty, for he was without the means of 
transporting it. He, therefore, buried the small arms. The prisoners 
he paroled, not having provisions for them. The Americans lost in 
this battle, two hundred and fifty killed and wounded ; among the 
latter, Captain M^son and Lieutenant Ewell, both mortally. The 
Mexicans lost three hundred and fifty, exclusive of those who 
perished in the flight, the number of whom has never been known. 
Not a man in the American army disgraced himself in this encoun- 
ter ; but all behaved courageously, and many like heroes. Scott rode 
forward to watcli the assault on Cerro Gordo, and stood under a 
canopy of cannon-balls until it was carried. Twiggs covered him- 
self with glory, as did also his subordinates, Harney, Plympton, 
Loring and Alexander. 

By y^is great victory the road to the valley of Mexico was laid 
open. Xalapa was entered on the 19th, two days after the battle. 
The Mexicans, panic-struck, hastened to abandon the strong posi- 
tion of La Hoya. On the 22d, Worth, occupied with his division, 
the castle and town of Perote, and here became possessed of fifty- 
four pieces of cannon and mortars, eleven thousand cannon balls. 
fourteen thousand bombs, and five hundred muskets. Pushing on, 
after a short delay, he reached Puebla on the 15th of May, encoun 

M — H* 



90 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



tering scarcely any opposition. This city stands at an elevation of 
seven thousand feet above the sea, and is but seventy-six miles from the 
capital. It contains a population of eighty thousand souls, abounds 
with rich churches and monasteries, and was formerly considered 
one of the wealthiest places, for its size, on the globe. The invaders 
were now on the great central plateau of Mexico. Their road from 
Vera Cruz, until within a few miles of Puebla, had been sterile, 
little vegetation beside the cactus being seen, except in the valley of 




Xalapa ; but now cultivated fields spread around them, and suddenly, 
at a turn of the road, Puebla flashed upon the sight. In the clear 
atmosphere of that elevated region, it looked like some magic town, 
its lofty houses and splendid churches gleaming out with a brilliancy 
unknown in the northern latitudes ; while the amphitheatre of moun- 
tains which encircled the valley in the midst of which it stood, 
formed a majestic background, with Popocatepetl, the giant of the 
Corderillas, keeping guard over the entrance to the great valley of 
Mexico beyond. The troops, cheered by the sight, hastened on, and 



GENERAL SCOTt's ARMY AT PUEBLA. 94 

about noon their van entered the city. The wmdows were crowded 
as the conquerors advanced to the great square, where the soldiers 
piled their arms, and slept that night securely, though in the midst 
of a city, one half of whose male population exceeded the whole 
force of the invaders. Thus, in two months, had the Americans 
conquered Vera Cruz, opened the road to the great plateau, and 
gained a position on the very threshold of the capital. During this 
time they had taken ten thousand prisoners, seven hundred cannon, 
ten thousand stand of arms, many colors of the . enemy, and almost 
innumerable stores of shells and shot. These things had been 
achieved with an army never more than fourteen thousand strong, 
but now reduced by various causes, to forty-three hundred effective 
men. There is not, in modern history, a campaign to compare with 
this, unless it be that of Austerhtz ! 

There was now a pause in active operations, the army remaining 
in Puebla from the 17th of May to the 7th of August. The reasons 
for this halt were two-fold. In the first place, the United States in- 
dulged a hope of peace, and had sent out Mr. Trist, Chief Clerk of 
the State Department, to negotiate one. He arrived at Xalapa aa 
Scott was about advancing to Puebla, and immediately endeavored 
to operate on the enemy. But he met with no success, though 
Scott, to conciliate the foe, had issued a proclamation from Xalapa, 
exposing to the Mexicans the rapacity of their rulers, and their shght 
hope of success in this war, at the same time recalling to their mind 
the generous conduct of the Americans in sparing their churches, 
public edifices, and private property, a behavior which showed 
their earnest desire for an honorable peace. The second reason for 
Scott's delay at Puebla, was the inefficiency of his force. Owing to 
sickness, death, the discharge of volunteers, and the necessity of 
leaving garrisons at Xalapa and other places, his army had dwindled 
down, so tlfat he could not muster more than five thousand eftective 
men at Puebla on the 1st of June. The discharge of the twelve 
months volunteers had especially reduced his numerical force. These 
men had been called out in May and June, 1846, under the act 
authorising the President to accept the services of fifty thousand 
volunteers for one year. Several regiments of these being in Scott's 
army, the time for their discharge happened just as he expected to 
march from Puebla. He resolved accordingly to await reinforce- 
ments. Meantime, the government at home had at last become 
awake to the necessity of throwing more men into Mexico, and ac- 
cordingly, a bill for the enlistment of ten regiments, to serve during 
the war, had passed both houses of Congress, and been signed by 



92 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

the President. The new levies, as fast as raised, -were despatched 
to the seat of war. Fresh volunteer regiments were also called out 
But these steps had been delayed too long, and it was three months 
before Scott was in a condition to advance. The interval, he em- 
ployed, hoivever, in drilling his little army more eifectually, so that 
before he left Puebla, the volunteers had attained nearly the preci- 
sion of veterans, and the whole formed a body of troops, never, per- 
haps, surpassed in discipHne, courage, and intelligence. The offi- 
cers, with few exceptions, had been instructed at West Point, and 
were capable, from the lowest to the highest, of directing a brigade, 
as well as leading a company. All were heroes. With such an 
army, if increased in numbers, nothing was impossible. 

Soon after Scott arrived at Puebla, the garrison at Xalapa was 
broken up ; the army not being in sufficient force to spare so large a 
detachment. Perote was now made a depot. This left the line of 
communication without defence. The American Commander thus 
found himself in the heart of an enemy's country, cut off entirely 
from his base, and surrounded by a hostile population. Modern 
warfare furnishes no parallel to this. Napoleon, when he advanced 
on Russia, kept open his connexions with the Rhine, by a continu- 
ous chain of garrisoned posts. Wellington, in his operations in 
Spam, never lost sight of the lines of Torres Vedras, which he con- 
stituted the pivot of his operations. There is no rule of the military 
art more inflexible, than that a General should never advance with- 
out providing a means of retreat ; yet this rule Scott daringly vio- 
lated. The result proved his sagacity. Indeed, the boldness of his 
attitude was a chief source of his safety. The enemy were con- 
founded at the hardihood of the General, and the confidence of the 
troops, who thus, as it were, hurled the gauntlet of defiance to all 
Mexico. But the measure, bold as it was, would never have been 
adopted, but from imperative necessity. If Scott had attempted to 
garrison Xalapa, and other places, he would have had no troops left 
for Puebla. He had to choose, therefore, between abandoning that 
post or his present one. He wisely determined on the former. 

Meantime, supplies and reinforcements for our arm^ were pour • 
ing into Mexico. The spirit of the people had become aroused, 
and whatever their differences of opinion as to the origin of the war, 
all parties united, with general unanimity, to support the Comman- 
der-in-chief, and enable him to advance on the capital. The senti- 
ment in favor of a vigorous prosecution of hostilities, was the more 
diffused, because it was believed that the fall of Mexico would lead 
to a speedy Deace. The route between Vera Cruz and Puebla, was 



ABVANCE OP SCOTT ON THE CAPITAL. 0,9 

now, however, infested with guerillas, a species of volunteer force 
who paid little attention to the laws of war ; sought plunder chiefly ; 
and frequently turned their arms against their own countrymen. On 
the 5th of May, a large train started from Vera Cruz, under the 
escort of Colonel Mcintosh, at the head of eight hundred men. At 
the Passo de Ovejas, it was attacked by a party of guerillas, who 
cut off thirty wagons and two hundred mules. The Americans 
made a gallant resistance, though overpowered, and lost thirty men, 
killed and wounded. On the 10th of May, General Cadwalader 
marched to the relief of Colonel Mcintosh, with six howitzers, and 
six hundred men, the latter, chiefly voltiguers, of the new levies. A 
junction was made, and the detachment, now fourteen hundred 
strong, completed the route to Puebla, in safety. Other trains rapidly 
followed. On the 17th of May, General Pillow left Yera Cruz, with 
one thousand men, and succeeded in safely reaching the main army. 
Early in August, General Pierce, at the head of twenty-five hundred 
new recruits, joined the Commander-in-chief. Scott's forces, by 
these accessions, being augmented to eleven thousand available men, 
he resolved, on the 7th of August, to advance on the capital. Every 
heart beat high with hope at the order to march ; and visions of 
glory to be won, danced before the imagination. 

On leaving Puebla, the road gradually ascended toward the Sierra 
Nevada. To the south was seen Popocateptl, its lower sides belted 
with dark pine forests, while its cone shot far into the transparent 
ether, clothed in its winding sheet of everlasting snows. On the 
north, rose Iztaccithuatl, its gigantic rival. Immense farms, covered 
with grazing herds, and long fields, nodding with grain, attested the 
richness of the valley of Puebla. As the mountains drew nearer, 
the signs of cultivation disappeared. Dark forests spread out on 
every side a sea of foliage. For three days the soldiers toiled 
through this region. Hill after hill rose before them, each prom- 
ising to be the last, yet each, when surmounted, revealing still 
another in front. Cold blasts sweeping down from the neighboring 
mountains, reminded the troops of the inclement winters of tlieir 
northern clime. At last, after winding up a long acclivity, and 
descending on the other side, they reached the pass of Rio Frio, 
where it was said the enemy had determined to make a stand, but 
no signs of a foe being visible, the army plunged boldly into the 
ravine. Trunks of trees, piled one above another, betrayed, how- 
ever, that the Mexicans had not been without thoughts of defence. 
As the troops defiled through the narrow pass, and looked up at the 
gigantic craggs beetling overhead, they involuntarily quickened 



94 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

their steps, lest some secret foe should be lurking up among the rocks, 
ready to bury whole battalions under the loosened fragments of the 
mountain. Having securely passed this lonely ravine, they began 
to think they were approaching the end of their toils. The road 
now ascended, by a series of short windings, through the pine woods, 
and finally came out on an almost level table land, over which the 
troops advanced for some hours, catching glimpses, occasionally, of 
a distant horizon to the west, apparently as interminable as the ocean 
At last, turning the edge of the Sierra, a vision, unrivalled for mag 
nificence and beauty, suddenly burst upon them. In an instan 
fatigue and cold were forgotten in the enrapturing sight. 

Two thousand feet below them lay the great valley of Mexico 
its picturesque assemblage of forest, lake, village, and cultivated 
plain, gleaming out in the brilliant atmosphere, like some gorgeous 
panorama. For two hundred miles around this superb plain, 
stretched a barrier of stupendous mountains. Looking over this 
gigantic wall, fifty miles to the west, other, and more distant ranges 
appeared, and beyond these, still others, until the eye was fatigued 
by the immensity of the landscape. More immediately beneath, the 
spectators beheld village spires, lordly haciendas, and sheets of water 
shining in the sun, the whole chequered by vapors that moved in 
flying shadows above the plain. The gaze of the soldiers long wan- 
dered over this prospect. Fai in the distance was seen the sacred 
hill of Chapultepec, with its white palace glancing out amid the dark 
grove of cypresses which still girdles it as in the days of Montezuma. 
There, too, was the once famed Lake Tezcuco, now dwindled to a 
marsh, its former bed glistening with incrustations of salt. And 
there, also, amid its green meadows, half screened by the sea of ver- 
dure that undulated around it, rose the capital, once the proud seat 
of mighty emperors, and still the boast of its citizens, and the wonder 
of the world. Turret, and spire, and pinnacle, white as the driven 
snow, soared to the sky ; the great tower of the cathedral in the 
centre, like a planet amid her satellites. Surrounded by its silver 
lakes, nothing could be more beautiful than the capital. In the fore- 
ground, the spectators beheld forests of waving trees, until the view 
was closed by the rugged descent immediately at their feet. Yet all this 
grandeur and loveliness was not without its depressing influences, 
for the vast plain appeared destitute of life or motion ; no sails" 
whitened the lakes; no teams were seen afield ; no smoke of facto- 
ries curled to the sky. It seemed like some pageant raised by a 
magician's wand, a thing of mere air ; or, if real, a valley of the dead. 

The army now began its descent, and still following the national 



ADVANCE OP SCOTT ON THE CAPITAL. 95 

roaa, encamped, at the end of the fourth day, at the little town of 
Ayotla, near Lake Chalco, fifteen miles from the capital. Here, the 
advance imder Twiggs halted, in order that the rear, composed of 
the divisions of Worth, Pillow, and Quitman, might come up. The 
Commander-in-chief was present with the van, and immediately 
gave orders to reconnoitre the country. It was soon found that the 
direct road to the capital was commanded, at the distance of seven 
miles from the city, by a rocky eminence called El Pernon. This 
hill, inaccessible on one side by nature, had been rendered so on 
all others by art ; fifty-one guns, of different calibres, had been 
mounted on it; and to complete its impregnable character, a ditch, 
twenty-four feet wide, and ten deep, had been cut around its foot. 
From El Pernon, to the city, the road was a causeway, surrounded by 
water. As this position could not be turned, it had to be car- 
ried by assault. It was estimated, however, that it would cost a loss of 
five thousand men to storm the place. Accordingly, Scott ordered a 
reconnoisance in a different direction. Another road, passing south 
of the great national one, was soon discovered; but this was also 
strongly fortified at Mexicalsingo, about five miles from the city. 
All the approaches to the capital by the usual route between Lakes 
Tezcuco and Chalco, being found thus impregnable, the plans of the 
General-in-chief, were, for awhile, at fault ; and he was hesitating, 
whether or not, to advance upon Mexicalsingo, and fight his way 
along the causeway that leads between marshes from that point to the 
city, when an express arrived from the rear that a practicable route 
had been discovered toward the lower extremity of Lake Chalco, 
by which all the enemy's positions at both El Pernon and Mexical- 
eingo, might be avoided. 

The merit of this discovery belongs, in part, to Worth. This 
latter officer had arrived, with his regulars, at Chalco, and receiving 
intelligence of the perplexity at head quarters, had thrown out 
examining parties in every direction. The result was, that around 
the lower extremity of Lake Chalco, a road was found, which, 
though exceedingly rugged, was still practicable, and which led 
into the great highway of Acapulco, that entered Mexico by its 
western gate. On the 14th, accordingly, the army was put in 
motion, retracing its steps for about ten miles, and then striking 
across the country nearly at right angles to its former course. By 
this change of route, Worth, who had been in the rear, was thrown 
into the advance, a position peculiarly congenial to his impetuous 
and daring soul. He discovered before he had marched five miles. 



96 • THE WAR WITxi MEXICO. 

that the change of plan was already known to the Mexicans , for 
sharp-shooters began to show themselves on the crests on the hills, 
and once they attempted to block up the road by rolling down rocks. 
A few shot, however, dislodged the Mexicans, and then the way wa» 
soon made passable. The march, after being continued for twenty- 
seven miles, terminated at San Augustine, on the Acapulco road. 
Worth reached this place on the 13th, and, in a few hours, the 
other divisions of the army were within striking distance. Twiggs, 
with the rear, arrived on the 18th. He had not come, however, 
without molestation; for at Buena Vjsta, about three miles from 
Ayotla, his train had been attacked by a division of Mexican lancers 
and infantry. After a short skirmish, the assailants had been 
beaten off, and the rest of the route had been prosecuted without 
opposition. 

It must not be supposed, however, that the Americans fomid the 
Acapulco road undefended. With consummate skill Santa Anna had 
prepared for every contingency. A line of fortifications, extending 
in a semi-circle around the city from Lake Tezcuco on the east, to 
the mountains on the west, constituted his exterior defences for the 
capital. The strongest of these posts. El Pernon and Mexicalsingo, 
were on that side where the enemy would be most likely to advance, 
and commanded the only available road by which Mexico could be 
entered on the south and east. But, though the cross-road from 
Chalco to the Acapulco road, was believed to be impracticable, 
Santa Anna had not forgotten the possibiUty that a movement might 
be made from this quarter, and accordingly had continued his line 
of defences across this highway, and westward to the mountains, 
thus covering every avenue of approach. The first of these posts, 
west of Lake Chalco, was Churubusco, a tete du point at the crossing 
of a canal armed with cannon. Still further to the west, was 
Contreras, a sharp hill, bristling with batteries and breastwork. In 
the route from Contreras, and within a mile of the city, was Cha- 
pultepec, a strongly fortified acclivity, on which was the military 
college. The whole of these defences mounted at least one hundred 
pieces of cannon, while the ground between them was either marshy 
or rough with volcanic remains, rendering the passage, unless along 
a few artificial causeways, almost impracticable, even for infantry. 
Behind this line of fortifications, Valencia mancBUvred at the head 
of six thousand troops, while Santa Anna, with twenty-four thousand 
more, held himself within striking distance. To pierce such a line, 
and defeat such overwhelming numbers, would, under ordJnar\ cir- 



STORMING OP THE HILL AT CONTRERAS. ^ 97 

cumstances, have transcended possibility ; but the American soldiers, 
fired by the example of their officers, believed that nothing was 
beyond their strength. Moreover, a noble emulation to surpass the 
glories of Buena Vista, was not without its influence. 

Worth's division, on the 18th, left San Augustine, and proceeding 
along the Acapulco road, approached San Antonio, between two 
and three miles in the advance. A heavy fire on his van, by which 
Captain Thornton was killed, revealed that the village was held in 
force by the enemy. A reconnoisance soon proved that it would be 
impossible to carry it without immense slaughter. There was but one 
way to turn this position, and that v/as by crossing to the westward, 
where, at the distanpe of five miles, was a practicable route, leading 
into the rear of San Antonio. But the passage across the country 
was extremely rough, and considered impracticable for artillery; 
moreover, at the end, lay the hill of Contreras, which would have 
to be stormed before the desired road could be seized. Scott, how- 
ever, determined on this movement. Pillow's division of volunteers 
was accordingly detailed on the contemplated route, to make a prac- 
ticable road for hetivy artillery. To cover this working party, the 
division of Twiggs was thrown forward in the same direction : it 
consisted of the two brigades of Smith and Riley, all veteran heroes. 
Each man carried his blanket on his shoulder, and two days pro- 
visions in his haversack. The troops started at 1, P. M., on the 
19th, dragging Magruder's battery and the mountain howitzers. 

The Americans had no idea of the strength of the defences at Con- 
treras ; what was their surprise, therefore, when, at the end of an 
hour's toilsome march, they reached the crest of a hill, and perceived, 
directly in front, the intrenchments of Valencia, bristling with twen- 
ty-two heavy cannon, and completely commanding the broken and 
rocky ground over which, with infinite labor, they were advancing. 
The road back of Contreras, which was the aim of the Americans, 
was in full sight, and was seen crowded with reinforcements, princi- 
pally cavalry, hastening to the hill. As soon as the guns of Valencia 
were descried, the men lay down close, to avoid drawing their fire, 
while the battery moved past at full gallop. Just then General 
Smith showed himself in the front, and called to his own regiment, 
" Forward, rifles — to support the battery." The men, prompt to the 
voice of their leader, sprang up and advanced, regardless of the 
rocks, ditches, and patches of corn which obstructed their way, the 
enemy all the while m.aintaining an incessant fire. Over this broken 
ground, however, neither the men nor artillery could move with 
M—i 20 



98 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

much rapidity, and the latter was considerably injured before it 
arrived within range, which it did finally about 4, P. M. The 
Mexicans at once opened their whole battery, firing grape, cannis- 
ler, and round shot with murderous precision and rapidity. For 
two hours, the Americans, with their three small guns, withstood 
the leaden hurricane. At every discharge the men threw them- 
selves on the ground to avoid the tempest, and then spr^g up and 
served the pieces. At the end of that time, having suffered terribly, 
the .regiment was recalled. Meantime, in another part of the field, 
successive charges by the enemy's lancers had been made, but they 
were uniformly repelled by the rolling fire of the second infantry. 
The third acting as skirmishers, in another quarter, drove in the 
Mexicans. The whole action lasted about three hours. It closed 
without any decisive results for either side. The Americans had not 
carried their point, and may, therefore, be considered as defeated ; 
but neither had they been routed ; they still held their post in front 
of the foe, and resolved, on the next day, to make a new attempt. 
For this purpose Scott directed the troops to take up favorable posi- 
tions during the night. Cadwalader was ordered to occupy the 
hamlet and church of Contreras, on the road leading from the capi- 
tal to Valeiicia's camp, and this, with the design of cutting ofi" rein- 
forcements for the Mexicans. Lest a single brigade should* not be 
sufficient, Shields was despatched to support Cadwalader. The 
brigades of Smith and Riley were posted in a narrow path, parallel 
to the main road, which brought them on the flank and rear of the 
enemy. The plan of the Commander-in-chief was that Smith and 
Riley should storm the hill of Contreras in the rear, on the succeed- 
ing day, while he should make a diversion in front, and Shields and 
Cadwalader should prevent reinforcements. Having complected these 
arrangements, Scott retired to head-quarters, and was followed by 
the other Major-Generals, leaving Smith in temporary command. 

The night that followed was a dismal one. The rain descended 
in torrents ; the ground was a stiff clay ; and the brigades of Smith 
and Riley slept in the mire, many of the officers and nlen witho?it 
blankets. Towards midnight it was discovered that the communi- 
cations with head quarters had been cut off. Thus left alone, wet, 
weary, and hungry, partially defeated, and surrounded by an enemy 
fourfold in number, it is not wonderful that the soldiers became dis- 
pirited. Morning, which at least would terminate suspense, was 
eagerly awaited. The men were benumbed with the rain and cold, 
when, suddenly, about 3, A. M., the word to "fall in," was passed 



STORMING OF CONTRERAS. , ^^ 

along the line. The brigades of Smith and Riley now moved rapidly 
through an orchard, and took position, unobserved, directly in rear 
of the Mexican battery, separated from it only by the crest of a hill. 
Cadwalader's brigade was moved from the village, and placed in 
the rear of Smith and Riley, as a reserve. The brigade of Shields 
was left to hold Contreras. These preparations had been completed 
by 6, A. M., when Shields arrived in person on the field ; but as the 
arrangements for the day had been thus far entirely under the con- 
trol of Smith, Shields, though his superior, refused to deprive him 
of the command. " You missed your chance at Cerro Gordo," he 
said, in allusion to the illness which kept Smith from participating 
in that battle, " and I will not interfere with your laurels now.'' 

The troops had taken their positions, when Smith showed him- 
self along the line, and announced, that, fearing lest Santa Anna 
might arrive and force a passage to Valencia's relief, he h'ld deci- 
ded to attack immediately, and not wait for the diversion of Scott in 
front. The sight of his familiar person^ animated the men. The lead 
of the storming party was assigned to Colonel Riley. Placing him- 
self at the head of the column, that heroic officer, the idol of his 
soldiers, turned and pithily addressed them. " I have but a word to 
say to you, my lads," he remarked, " give them the cold lead, and 
remember I am with you." Nothing. could have been better timed 
than this cool, laconic speech, for it carried assurance of victory 
with it. Springing forward, the brigade soon reached the crest of 
the hill, and opening its fire, rushed down on the foe. The crack of 
a hundred rifles startled the enemy, who, on the watch for an attack 
in front, little expected one in his rear, and, in his surprise and 
hurry, he discharged a volley, which overshot the storming party. 
On went the Americans, cheering and firing, and, before the artil 
lery could be turned on them, they gained the foot of the parapet. 
This obstruction was cleared in an instant, Riley's brigade pouring 
over it hke a solid wave. Once within the intrenchments, the strug- 
gle was soon over. Salas, the Mexican General, springing to the 
front, and crying, " victory for Mexico," endeavored to rally his men ; 
the Americans burst into the midst of the half formed ranks, and 
with the butt-ends of their muskets, beat them to the ground. The 
blows of the falling stocks ; the shrieks of the wounded, and the yells 
of the conquerors, mingling in awful discord, were heard even in the 
village below. In seventeen minutes the combat was at end, and the 
enemy every where in flight : a column of lancers, five thousand 
strong, which came up just as the assault begun, saw that the day 
was lost, and had set this example. Cadwalader, with his two regi* 



100 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

ments, won here his first laurels. The road was soon blocked up 
with fugitives, crowding and treading each other down. The rifles 
and the second infantry, with loud yells, headed the pursuit, and 
added to the terrors of those who fled. Shields' brigade also, rush- 
ing from the village, threw itself into the road, and intercepted the 
retreat. The enemy, at this, flung down his arms by whole compa- 
nies. At one point, thirty men, without an ofiicer, captured five 
hundred. It seemed as if the fabulous days of old had come to 
be real. 

The results were immense. Besides seven hundred of the enemy 
killed, and at least one thousand wounded, there were eight hundred 
and thirteen taken prisoners, of whom four were Generals. Among 
the spoils were twenty-two pieces of brass cannon, seven hundred 
pack mules, a vast quantity of shot, shells, small-arms, and ammuni- 
tion. But the greatest prize of all, was the re-capture by a compa- 
ny of the fourth artillery, of the two six-pounders, taken from 
another company of the same regiment, in the battle of Buena Vista. 
On beholding these long regretted pieces, some of the men rushed 
forward and embraced them v/ith tears. By this victory. Smith 
completely cut the line of the iMexican defence, rendered the posi- 
tion at San Antonio no longer tenable, and forced the enemy to con- 
centrate his troops at Churubusco. This latter post was now but 
four miles distant across the country. In a measure, it was owing 
to the gross errors on the part of the enemy, that the day was won 
with so little loss to the Americans ; for nothing but negligence would 
have allowed a storming party to get into the reptr, or would have 
omitted to fortify the heights around Contreras. 

On receiving inteUigence of the victory, Scott ordered Worth to 
advance, with his division along the Acapulco road, and drive the 
enemy from San Antonio, a task which now promised to be easy, 
since, by the loss of Contreras a road was opened to his rear. As 
soon as San Antonio was carried. Worth was directed to push 
forward to Churubusco, which he was to assault in front ; while 
Twiggs, with the victorious troops from Contreras, crossing the 
country, should attack it simultaneously in flank. The works at 
Churubusco were understood to be almost impregnable. The vil- 
lage of that name is situated on a rivulet, which is nearly at right 
angles to the Acapulco road, and is surrounded with corn-fields and 
meadows, the latter intersected every where by ditches. Approach- 
ing Churubusco from Contreras, the traveller meets, at the entrance 
of the village, a hacienda which guards the causeway leading to the 
Acapulco road. This hacienda was now strongly fortified. It con- 



ADVANCE ON CHURUBUSCO. 101 

sisted of an enclosure of stone walls, which was overtopped by a 
stone buildmg inside ; and the latter was in turn, overtopped by a 
stone church. The outside walls were pierced for two ranges of 
musketry ; the building and church for one each : so that four dif- 
ferent ranges of men could thus fire at the same time. The haci- 
enda was further defended by six pieces of cannon. It was 
mipossible for cavalry or artillery to reach the Acapulco road with- 
out first carrying this position. 

About four hundred yards from the hacienda, and at the other 
extremity of the village, the Acapulco road crossed the little rivulet 
of which we have spoken, and stretched on towards the western 
gate of Mexico. The bridge-head here was strongly fortified, and 
constituted a tete du point. A force, advancing along the highway, 
would leave the hacienda to the left, and first be arrested in front of 
the tete du point. But, if the hacienda was not simuhaneously 
attacked, any body of troops moving along the highway, would be 
subjected to a fire from it on the fiank. Hence, it became necessary 
to assail both the tete du point and the hacienda at once. The fall 
of the latter would lead the victors by Contreras, directly on the 
Acapulco road, where, the tete du point being carried, the way 
would be cleared to the capital, only four miles distant. Twiggs 
being assigned the task of carrying the hacienda, and Worth that 
of forcing the tete du point, it only became necessary to provide for 
cutting off the retreat of the enemy, in order to insure a comiplete 
victory. To Shields, accordingly, this part of the day's work was 
assigned. He was directed to struggle across the meadows, in a 
line parallel to, but on the left of the Acapulco road, and getting into 
the rear of the foe, prevent his seeking refuge in the city when the 
works of Churubusco should be stormed. 

The operations of the day, therefore, resolved themselves into 
three distinct combats ; one undertaken by Worth, another by Twiggs, 
and a third by Shields. We shall narrate them in the order named. 
It was about 8, A. M., when Worth set forth from San Augustine, 
leaving Quitman with a single brigade, to garrison that place, which 
was the general depot of the army. On approaching San Antonio, 
Worth discovered the place to be too strong to be assaulted, for no 
less than seven batteries, mounting in all twenty-four guns, frowned 
over the highway. The artillery could not operate, except on the 
road, but the infantry, making a detour through the meadows to the 
left, the enemy, already disheartened by the loss of Contreras, and 
knowmg the victors from that field would soon be in his rear, began 
to evacuate the place. Clarke's brigade soon brushed away the 

M — I* 



102 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

troops in front, and cutting the retiring column in half, drove aDoul 
fifteen hundred off to the east, while an equal number fled north- 
ward, to Churubusco. The other brigade of Worth, led by Colonel 
Garland, pressed forward along the highway, and, about six hundred 
yards beyond San Antonio, united with Clarke's, when the whole 
pushed rapidly on in the direction of Churubusco. The instant the 
Americans came in sight of this position, a tremendous fire of artil- 
lery and musketry was opened upon them in front. At the same 
time the hacienda to the left was seen enveloped in the smoke of 
battle, showing that the division of Twiggs had already come up 
from Contreras, and was thundering to force a passage. 

At this crisis, and just as he was going into action. Worth was 
joined by Pillow, who had been detached, with Cadwalader's 
brigade, to his assistance. The sight in front was one to appal any 
but the stoutest hearts. The tete du point appeared perfectly im- 
pregnable, as did also the hacienda, a half gun-shot to the left; while 
between these two fortified posts extended a long line of infantry; 
and, in the distance, swarming between the rivulet and the city, 
and hurrying to the field of battle, were countless multitudes of the 
enemy, the blue and white uniforms of the foot soldiers contrasting 
finely with the yellow cloaks and red jackets of the lancers. There 
could not be less than thirty thousand Mexicans in the field, while the 
whole fdrce of Scott, at all points, was but nine thousand. The spectacle, 
however, only fired the Americans with a more heroic resolution. 
Worth lost not a moment in making his attack. Garland's brigade 
was thrown to the right of, and in hne of columns obliquely to the 
road, by which, when he attacked, he would strike the enemy at an 
angle. Clarke's brigade, with the exception of the sixth infantry, 
supported by Cadwalader's two regiments, was directed to move 
through the fields, in a line parallel to the road. To the sixth in- 
fantry was reserved the task of advancing along the highway, 
sustained by Duncan's battery, and assaulting the bridge-head 
in front. The brigade of Garland, plunging into the fields of corn 
on the right, roused up the enemy from his concealed lair, and a 
terrific struggle began, the Mexicans retiring sullenly, amid a perfect 
blaze of fire. The sixth infantry advancing along the highway, 
was soon checked by the withering volleys in front. But, mean- 
time, Clarke's brigade, moving between Garland's and the road, 
reached the ditches that surrounded the tete du point when, with a 
wild cheer, they plunged down, and in the face of a perfect whirl- 
wind of lead, struggled over, rushed up the parapet, and cleared the 
work with the bayonet. The enemy now abandoned this bridge- 



ATTACK ON CHURTJBUSCO. 



103 



head, which he had vainly considered impregnable, and fled towards 
the capital. Instantly the captured cannon were turned on the 
hacienda, which Twiggs, from the Contreras road, was, as yet 
unsuccessfully assaulting. Duncan, too, galloping along the cause 






STORMING or CHimXJBDSCO. 



way, took a position within two hundred yards of the hacienda, and 
sent his rapid volleys rattling against its sides. 

While Worth had been storming the tete du point Twiggs had 
been thundering in vain at the hacienda. The whole of his division, 
except the rifles, which had been detached to succor Shields, was 
engaged at this work ; but so continuous were the discharges from 
the battery, and so fatal was the aim of the sharp-shooters from the 
church, that, for three hours, no decided advantage was gained. 
Right in the centre of the enemy's line were three guns, manned by 
deserters from the American army, and these men, aware that death 
awaited them in case of capture, fought like tigers at bay, im- 
parting a portion of their own desperate valor to the Mexicans 
Never yet had our troops faced such an appalling fire. The works 
in front showed an incessant sheet of flame ; and the thunder of the 



l04 ' THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

artillery was, for two hours, one continuous roll. Yet the veteran 
regiments of Riley and Smith, conquerors already on one field that 
day, never quailed. Though, from their position they could but 
indistinctly see the foe, while the enemy from his elevation command- 
ed a complete view of the whole field, they resolutely maintained 
the fight, cheering to each other, and stimulated, from time to time, 
by glimpses caught through the smoke of the white flag of surrender, 
which, though pulled down as often as hung out, betrayed that the 
hearts of the enemy were beginning to fail. Thrice this sign was 
seen, and thrice greeted with huzzas. The roar of six pieces of 
heavy artillery, and of more than two thousand muskets, immedi- 
ately at this spot, combined with the wild uproar now going on at the 
tete du point, and the more distant crash of battle from the division 
of Shields, conspired to make the scene like Pandemonium, a 
resemblance that was increased by the smoke that covered the battle- 
field, and would have turned day into night, but for the incessant 
and lurid fire that vivified the scene. At last the division of Worth, 
having carried the tete du point, a fire was opened, as we have 
seen, on tlie rear of the hacienda. The enemy held out still for half 
an hour longer, and then hung out the white flag, but not until twc 
companies of the second infantry, led by Captains Alexander and 
Smith, had forced the work with the bayonet, and entered tri 
umphantly. 

While the battle had raged at these two f)oints. Shields, reinforced 
by the brigade of Pierce, and subsequently by the rifles, had waded 
across the meadows to the left, and reached by a winding route, a 
point near the Acapulco road, somewhat in the rear of Churubusco. 
Here he found himself suddenly opposed by four thousand Mexican 
infantry, on whose sides hovered three thousand cavalry. Finding 
it impossible to outflank the enemy, he concentrated his division, with 
a little hamlet as its sustaining point, and began a resolute attack. 
The conflict was long, ,hot and varied. The troops were nearly all 
volunteers, but no regulars could have behaved with more heroism. 
To the oilcers is particularly owifig the final success of the day. 
Pressing on at the head of their troops, they led wherever duty 
called, not merely showing the men where to go, but rushing for- 
Avard, and calling on them to follow. General Pierce, still sufl'ering 
from a hurt, persisted in keeping his horse, and fainted at last from 
exhaustion. Colonel Butler, of the South Carolina regiment, who 
had risen from a sick bed, led on his troops, even after he received a 
wound, and fell finally at the head of the column, his last words 
being, "keep in the front with the Palmetto flag V' Such heroism 



scott's arrival at the capital. 105 

could not fail of victory. The enemy, in the end, gave way. At 
this instant, Worth having carried the tete du point, was seen 
sweeping along the Acapulco road, and soon eflecting a junction 
with Shields, the united forces passed onwards to the city of Mexico, 
driving the mass of fugitives before them, as a mountain freshet 
whirls away opposing dams in its embrace. At the head of the 
pursuit rushed the powerful dragoons of Col. Harney. The chase was 
continued by this bold leader to within a hundred yards of the city 
gate, not drawing rein until a masked battery opened on him. Captain 
Kearney lost an arm, and several of the troop were wounded. Worth, 
uncertain of the plans of the Commander-in-chief, halted with the 
main body of his forces, within a mile and a half of the city. Mean- 
time, Scott arriving in person at Churubusco, drew up in front of the 
captured hacienda, when he was received with tumultuous cheers by 
his soldiers, whom he complimented on the spot for their gallantry. 

Thus ended the memorable 20th of August, 1847; a day most 
glorious in the military annals of the republic. In it no less than 
five distinct combats were fought and won : Contreras, San Antonio, 
the hacienda, the tete du point, and the rear of Churubusco. The 
whole loss of the Americans, in killed, wounded, and missing, was 
one thousand and fifty-three. The loss of the Mexicans, excluding 
Contreras, of which we have already spoken, was fifteen hundred 
killedand wounded, and twelve hundred made prisoners, among whom 
were five Generals. Besides this, they had ten more pieces of artil- 
lery captured, with small arms, ammunition, and equipments for an 
army. In one day, Santa Anna beheld his thirty thousand men, 
which his defences rendered equal to one hundred thousand in open 
field, reduced to eighteen thousand effectives, and this by only nine 
thousand antagonists. The whole series of forts which he had con- 
structed with such skill for the protection of the capital, was trium- 
phantly carried by the Americans, who chased his panic-struck troops 
to the gates of the city. When evening fell, the victors had 
advanced their posts so close to Mexico, that the sound of their 
exulting music was borne on the wind to the very heart of the town. 

The night was one of wild alarm to the inhabitants, for it was 
expected that Scott would advance to the storm on the morrow. 
But this dreadful crisis was averted by the diplomacy of Santa 
Anna. That leader, aware of the desire of the United States for 
peace, and secretly informed that Scott had been instructed not to 
press things to extremity, despatched a flag of truce to the American 
General, early on the morning of the 21st, soliciting an armistice, in 
order that commissioners might meet to arrange a permanent treaty 



106 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



It is not probable that Santa Anna desired more than to obtain a 
breathing spell. With true Mexican duplicity, he sought only to 
amuse his enemy and gain time to prepare for further defences. The 
flag found Scott at the arch-Episcopal palace of Tacubaya, where 
he had taken up his head-quarters, in full sight of the spires of 
Mexico. He was writing a summons to the town, preparatory to 
a siege or assault. He consented, after some modifications, to the 
proposed armistice. The chief articles of this temporary arrange- 
ment, were that both armies were to maintain their present position ; 
that the Americans were to be regularly supplied with food from 
the city ; that no fresh Mexican levies should approach within twen- 
ty-four miles of the capital ; and that the armistice, in case of a breach 
by either party, should be terminated on notice. Thus, Mexican 
diplomacy in the cabinet, recovered what Mexican inefficiency in 
the field had lost. Yet the fault was not with the American Gene- 
ral, nor yet with his government ; but rather with the American 
people, who fancied their enemy desirous of peace. The blood of 
Molino del Rey, of Chapultepec, and of the Garita, paid dearly for 
the generous mistake. Yet the armistice should not be regretted. 
A magnanimous conqueror never loses in the estimation of history 
by offering the olive-branch too frequently. 





A PUBLIC HOUBB IN NXXICO, 



BOOK V. 



THE FALL OF TH^E CAPITAL. 



H E negotiations that ensued, were 
conducted on the American side, 
by Mr. Trist, and by five commis- 
sioners, at the head of whohi was 
General Herera, on the Mexican. 
Mr. Trist had been appointed, as 
\^ we have already noticed, in the pre- 
ceding April. His commission in- 
vested him " with ample power and 
authority,'^ to negotiate with Mexi- 
co "a treaty of peace, amity, and 
lasting boundaries." The manner 

of his appointment by the executive will alone, and without any 

107 




108 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

consultation whatever with the Senate, was, to say the least, nove. 
to the diplomatic practice of the United States. The President has 
no constitutional power to create a new mission to a foreign country ; 
nor to make a treaty without the advice and consent of the Senate. 
The excuse for this strange proceeding, was the urgency of the case ; 
but a free people can never be too jealous of the invasion of whole- 
some precedents. 

The attitude of the Mexican commissioners speedily convinced 
the General-in-chief that no treaty would be negotiated. The first 
claim set up, was that Mexico should be indemnified for her ex- 
penses in the war, and considered as treating as if she was the con- 
queror, instead of the conquered. From this arrogant position, however, 
she finally descended. Accordingly, on the 27th, Mr. Trist presented 
his outline of a treaty. By this document he proposed that Mexico 
should cede to the United States Upper and Lower California, and 
New Mexico ; should give up all claim to the disputed territory 
between the Neuces and the Rio Grande ; and should yield to the 
United States in perpetuity, the right of way over the isthmus of 
Tehuantepec. In consideration of these cessions of territory, Mr. 
Trist undertook that his government should pay to the Mexican one, 
fifteen millions of dollars. The Mexican commissioners presented a 
counter project. They proposed that the Neuces should be the 
boundary between the two countries, as far as its source ; that 
thence the line should skirt the eastern side of New Mexico to the 
thirty-seventh degree of north latitude ; and that from that point it should 
run west with that parallel to the Pacific. In addition, they agreed 
-that no Mexican colony should be established between the Neuces 
and Rio Grande, but that the region should be left uninhabited. 

It is evident that the Mexican government was not in earnest in 
this negotiation. Even if it was so at the beginning, circumstances 
soon happened to alter its wishes. The temper of the populace in 
the capital evinced, from day to day, how distasteful any treaty of 
peace would be ; for the defences of the city were considered impreg 
nable by the mob, and even by the larger portion of the better 
classes. The states of Mexico, Jalisco, and Zacatecas, issued a protest, 
declaring that the capital did not allow the necessary freedom for the 
discussion of terms of peace, and that any arrangement made there 
in relation to a treaty, would be regarded by them as null, without 
the ratification of Congress. This declaration from so many wea Ithy 
states, conjoined with the popular indignation, and assisted by the 
general opinion in Santa Anna's army, that all was not yet lost, 
induced the Mexican government to refuse coming to terms with 



PEACE NEGOTIATIONS. 109 

Mr. Trist, though the lafter, anxious to effect a peace, considerably 
modified his demands, agreeing to abandon the claim to Lower 
California, and to refer the question of the Neuces boundary to the 
decision of the United States. On the 7th of September, the Mexi- 
can . commissioners formally reported to the Secretary of Foreign 
Relations, that the negotiations had failed. Their report was pre- 
ceded, however, by a circular, isstied by the Secretary of State, 
calling on the inhabitants of the states of Mexico and Puebla, to 
rise, en masse, and assault the foe. At the same time Santa Anna 
began to add to the fortifications of the city, thus breaking one of 
the articles of the armistice. It could no longer be concealed that 
the war would have to be renewed. 

In these negotiations, the Mexicans had gained the advantage. 
They had desired delay, and had obtained it. However doubtful it 
may be whether Scott could have stormed the city with his exhausted 
troops, on the day following the battle of Churubusco, it is certain 
that any delay beyond forty-eight hours, the period required to 
recruit his army, was for the advantage of the enemy. Moreover, 
in the discussions between Mr. Trist and the Mexican commission- 
ers, the latter uniformly displayed the most diplomatic skill. They 
acknowledged in their reply to Mr. Trist's project of a treat}^, that 
the existing war had been undertaken on account of the annexation 
of Texas, but said, that as the United States had offered to indemnify 
Mexico, the cause of war had disappeared, and the war itself ought 
to cease. But, they continued, " to the other territories, mentioned 
in the fourth article in your excellency's draught, no right has here- 
tofore been asserted by the republic of North America, nor do we 
believe it possible for it to assert any. Consequently it could not 
acquire them, except by the right of conquest, or by the title which 
will result from the cession or sale which Mexico might now make. 
But as we are persuaded that the republic of Washington will not 
only absolutely repel, but will hold in abhorrence the first of these 
titles, and as, on the other hand, it would be a new thing, and con- 
trary to every idea of justice, to make war upon a people for no 
other reason than because it refused to sell territory which its neigh- 
bor sought to buy, we hope from the justice of the government and 
people of North America, that the ample modifications which we 
have to propose to the cessions of territory, will not be a motive to 
persist in a war which the worthy General of the North American 
troops has justly styled as unnatural. 

"In our conferences we have informed your excellency that 
Mexico cannot cede the tract which lies between the left bank of 

M — K 



110 THE WAR WITH .MEXICO 

the Bravo and the right of the Neuces. The reason entertained foi 
this is not alone the full certaint}?- that such territory never belonged 
to the state of Texas, nor is it founded upon the great value in the 
abstract which is placed upon it. It is because that tract, together 
with the Bravo, forms the natural frontier of Mexico, both in a 
military and a commercial sense ; and the frontier of no state ought to 
be sought, and no state should Consent to abandon its frontier. But 
in order to remove all cause of trouble hereafter, the government of 
Mexico engages not to found new settlements, nor establish colonies 
in the space between the two rivers, so that, remaining in its present 
uninhabited condition, it may serve as an equal security to both re^ 
publics. Pursuant to our instructions, the preservation of this terri* 
tory is a condition sine qua non of peace. Sentiments not only of 
honor and delicacy, (which your excellency's noble character will 
know how worthily to estimate,) but also a calculation of interests, 
prevent our government from consenting to the dismemberment of 
New Mexico. Upon this point we deem it superfluous to add any 
thing to that which we had the honor to explain to you orally in 
our conferences." 

With equal adroitness the Mexican commissioners refused Mr. 
Trist's claim to Lower California, and even induced him to with- 
draw that demand. As a reason for declining to yield a right of 
way over the isthmus of Tehuantepec, they urged that, some years 
before, Mexico had granted a privilege in reference to this subject 
to a private contractor, who had subsequently transferred his right 
to English subjects. " We have entered into this plain statement," 
they added, " for the motives which the republic has for not agreeing 
to alienate all the territory asked of it beyond the state of Texas, 
because we desire that the North American government and people 
may be persuaded that our partial refusal does not proceed from 
feelings of aversion created by the antecedents in this war, or by 
the suffering which it has inflicted upon Mexico, but rests upon con- 
siderations dictated by reason and justice, which would operate in 
all time with reference to the most friendly nation in the midst of the 
closest relations of friendship." They then proposed that England 
should be asked to guarantee the treaty, if one should be formed : 
and ended by the following declaration. "The good and salutary 
work can, in our opinion, reach a happy end, if each of the con- 
tending parties resolves to abandon some of its original pretensions. 
This has always been so ; and no nation ever hesitated, at such a 
juncture, to make great sacrifices to extinguish the destructive flame 
of war. Mexico and the United States have special reasons thus to 



RENEWAL OP HOSTILITIES. Ill 

act. We must confess, not without a blush, that we are exhibiting 
to mankind the scandal of two Christian people, of two republics, in 
the presence of all the monarchies, mutually doing one another all 
the harm they can by disputes about boundaries, when we have an 
excess of land to people and cultivate in the beautiful hemisphere 
where Providence caused us to be born. We venture to recommend 
these considerations to your excellency before you come to a definite 
decision upon our propositions." 

These specious arguments, and this affected desire for peace, were 
not intended to convince Mr. Trist, but to operate upon the Mexican 
people. The commissioners knew that the United States, having 
annexed Texas, was compelled to defend whatever line she claimed 
as her boundary ; for an exactly similar case had occurred in rela- 
tion to Maine, only a few years before, when the consent of that 
etate had become a necessary preliminary to the Ashburton treaty. 
Moreover, it was not to be supposed that the United States, after 
having begun the war on her part for the Rio Grande boundary, 
would, at the close' of a career of unexampled victory, abandon that 
which she claimed, iml ess for the equivalent of New Mexico, or Cali- 
fornia, or both. Accordingly, the rejection of Mr. Trist's final 
proposition exhausted the magnanimity of the Americans. The 
army had never viewed these negotiations with favor, but regarded 
them as snatching the prize of victory from their grasp. From the 
General-in-chief to the lowest soldier, they believed that the enemy 
would never be humbled until his capital had fallen. But history 
with more impartiality, can never regret this attempt to negotiate. 
It obtained an acknowledgement from Mexico that the war was 
begun on her part to avenge the annexation of Texas. It showed 
to the world that the conquerors were generous as well as brave ; 
for they sought to impose no severer terms when thundering at the 
gates of Mexico, than when they first landed, at Vera Cruz. The 
demands for territory were necessary to reconcile the people of the 
United States to the war, and were not extravagant, considering our 
successes. But in Mexico, the commissioners were considered to 
have triumphantly rejected Mr. Trist ; and the popular voice ex- 
claimed indignantly against parting with a foot of soil. The inso- 
lent pride of the enemy was not yet sufficiently humbled. 

Scott, having become convinced that the Mexicans were trifling 
with Mr. Trist, despatched, on the 6th of September, a letter to 
Santa Anna, complaining of certain breaches of the armistice, in 
fortifying the city and refusing to supply the Americans with pro- 
visions. He added that if satisfactory explanations were not made 



112 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

in forty-eight hours, he should renew hostilities. The reply would 
have convinced Scott of the dissimulation of the Mexican govern- 
ment, if any doubt had remained ; for Santa Anna not only retorted 
Scott's charge, but asserted that the American soldiers committed 
continual acts of rapine and brutality on the neighboring villages. 
Nothing could be more unfounded, however, than this last charge 
Never, perhaps, was there an invading army more orderly than that 
of Scott : excesses, of course, were occasionally committed ; but they 
were of rare occurrence ; and complaining came with an ill grace 
from a General distinguished for his perfidy and cruelty alike. 
Simultaneous with this reply, Santa Anna began to increase the de- 
fences of the capital. The mask being thus thrown off, Scott made 
preparations to carry the city by assault. To this purpose he began 
a series of reeonnoisances on the 7th, the result of which was a 
determination to attack by the Chapultepec road. In order to 
Understand the operations that ensued, it will be necessary to enter 
into some detail respecting the difficulties of approaching the town. 

The city of Mexico originally stood in the centre of a lake, but 
owing to the construction of drains and other causes, the waters 
have long since receded from it. The ground, however, in its 
vicinity is still swampy, and impassable for cavalry or wheel car- 
riages, especially in the rainy season, or fall of the year. The only 
approaches to the city, for miles in every direction, are over artificial 
causeways. It was this difficulty which had met Scott on the 
eastern side of Lake Chalco. There existed but two practicable 
avenues of approach in that quarter, and both these were so well 
defended as almost to preclude the possibility of being forced. By 
turning to the west around the lake, he had gained the Acapuico 
road, which was less impregnably fortified. Here the battles of 
Contreras and Churubusco, had opened the way to the gates of the 
capital. But, as he had abandoned the approach by El Penon in 
consequence of the strength of its defences, so now, for a similar 
reason, he resolved not to pursue his advantages on the Acapuico 
road, but assault the enemy to the westward by the Tacubaya one. 
Other reasons also induced him to adopt this course. Just outside the 
walls, on the Tacubaya road, was the fortified hill of Chapultepec, 
which completely commanded the town. If the city was entered 
by the Acapuico road, the enemy would at once retire to Chapulte- 
pec. To dispossess him it would be necessary to leave the wounded 
Americans to the mercy of the rancheros, and marching out, risk a 
second battle ; while, if Chapultepec was carried as a preliminary, 
the city must of necessity fall. Sound military policy, therefore, die- 



THE CAPITAL OP MEXICO. 



113 



tated the movements by way of Chapultepec. But Scott, perceiving 
that the enemy expected the assauh to take place on the Acapulco 
road, resolved tp keep up this delusion by a feigned attack in that 
quarter. 




CHAPULTEPEC. 



The Acapulco road, branches into three causeways towards its 
extremity, and enters the city by as many gateways. The Tacubaya 
road terminates in two. These gateways are small forts, mounted 
with cannon, and are used, in peace, as custom-houses ; but in war 
are easily converted into a sort of bastions. As the city could only 
be entered through these gateways, their capture became indispen- 
sable But, being narrow and admitting only a few persons abreast, 
they aiforded almost impassable defences against a foe. Moreover, 
the causeways, by which these gates were approached, had been 
cut through in many places, and these gaps it was almost impossible 
to bridge in face of the fire from the gateways. It was now the wet 
season, and the marshes were partially overflowed. Scott, with an 
army reduced to less than eight thousand men, was in front of a 

31— K* 21 



114 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

city with a population of two hundred thousand, of whom twenty 
thousand were leperos, who could be roused at a word. This 
city was, moreover, garrisoned by a regular army of. at least twenty 
thousand men. Yet, notwithstanding this disparity of numbers, so 
greatly increased by the defences of the place, never, for a moment, 
did the American commander doubt the result. The indomitable 
valor of the American soldiers would, he felt assured, achieve a 
glorious victory. Besides, his communications were cut off, and it 
was a choice with him between conquest and a grave. He neg- 
lected none of the aids which science afforded him, however : such 
neglect, indeed, would have been criminal ; and we may question 
whether the capital, in that case, would have fallen. If he had 
marched for Mexicalsingo, or obstinately pursued the Acapulco 
road, the boasts of Santa Anna might have proved true ; the skilful 
defences of the city would, perhaps, have triumphed; and the bones 
of the slaughtered Americans would have been left to bleach in 
sight of the capital, an awful warning against invaders ! 

About two and a half miles from the city, on the Tacubaya road, 
stands the village of the same name, where General Scott had fixed 
his head-quarters. About twelve hundred yards north of this village, 
a distance which is called point-blank range for twelve-pounders, 
stands the precipitous and fortified hill of Chapultepec, to which we 
have so often alluded. On three sides it is unapproachable, but on the 
fourth, which faces the Tacubaya road, it is bounded by a dense grove 
of trees, dating back to the days of the Montezumas. Here the road 
divides, branching off into two, each being about a couple of miles to 
the city gates. The cannon of Chapultepec rake these causeways 
for their whole length. Just at the foot of this hill, on the side 
nearest Tacubaya, and contiguous to the grove of trees, stands a 
stone building of thick and high walls, turreted at the ends. This 
is known as MoUno del Rey. As its name implies, it was for- 
merly a mill, but was now supposed to be employed as a foundry 
for cannon. Four hundred yards to the west of Molino del Rey, 
and in a straight line with that and Chapultepec, rose the marine 
Casa de Mata, an old castellated Spanish fort ; and from its foot, 
a gentle acclivity extended to the village of Tacubaya. From these 
explanations, it is evident that the city could not be taken without 
Chapultepec first fell, and that Chapultepec could not well be 
stormed without seizing Molino del Rey as a preliminary. Accor- 
dingly the General-in-chief ordered a closer reconnoisance of Molino 
del Rey and Casa de Mata, to ascertain the probable loss in storming 
them: the report recommended an assault ; and, in this opinion, Scott 



CAPTURE OF MOLINO DEL RET. ^15 

coincided. It was not his intention, however, to hold them : his 
meagre forces would not allow this under the guns of Chapultepec ; 
by blowing them up, however,. he would gain all he desired, which 
was to destroy the Mexican foundry and clear the road for his con- 
templated attack on Chapultepec. 

For this desperate task the first division of regulars, reinforced by 
Cadwalader's brigade, and a detachment of artillery and dragoons, 
were selected, and the whole placed under command of General 
Worth. The force of the assailants numbered three thousand one 
hundred and fifty-four, of which less than three thousand were 
cavalry, and one hundred artillerists, the latter having three small 
field pieces, and two twenty-four "pounders. The number of the 
enemy in the lines, or within sustaining distance, were over ten 
thousand. His left rested upon and occupied Molino del Rey ; his 
right Casa de Mata. Half way between these two stone buildings, 
was his field battery, and on each side of this were ranged lines of 
infantry. The right was composed of fifteen hundred regulars, 
under General Perez ; the left was made up of the National Guards, 
and was led by General Leon. The intermediate lines, with strong 
bodies in the rear, were under the command of Santa Anna. The 
Mexicans were confident of victory, for they knew the Americans 
to be ignorant of the vast strength of Casa de Mata. On the other 
hand, Worth was unconscious of the almost impregnable position of 
the enemy ; but resolute in any event, to succeed. He made his dispo- 
sitions for the attack with admirable skill, dividing his little force 
into three several columns of assault. The right coUimn composed 
of Garland's brigade, and accompanied by two pieces of light artil- 
lery under Captain Drum, was to assail Molino del Rey, and was to 
advance to the attack, covered by the fire of the two twenty-four 
pounders, placed for this purpose, under Captain Huger, on the 
ridge descending from Tacubaya. The centre column, containing 
five hundred picked men, and led by Major Wright, of the eighth, was 
to pierce the Mexican centre, and capture the field battery there. 
The left column was commanded by Colonel Mcintosh, and consisted 
of the second brigade, sustained by Duncan's battery ; its object was 
to watch the enemy's left, and support Major Wright, or assail Casa 
de Mata, as circumstances might require. Cadwalader's brigade 
was held iii reserve, in a position between Mcintosh and Huger's 
battery. Sumner's dragoons were stationed on the extreme left. 
Such were the dispositions made by Worth, on the night of the 7th, 
and when the men sank to slumber, it was with the expectation of 
a bloody morrow. But their worst anticipations fell short of the 
reality. 



116 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

At 3, A. M., on the 8th, the columns were put in motion, and in 
an hour and a half, had taken up their respective positions. The 
cold grey of early dawn had just begun to show itself faintly in the 
east, when a shot from Huger's battery went whistling over the 
heads of the troops, and crashing against the sides of MoUno del 
Rey, announced that the battle was begun. It was not long before 
the walls were crumbling under the immense battering balls. No 
sooner did Worth perceive this, than he gave the order for Wright 
to advance. The storming party instantly rushed forward, led by 
Captain Mason of the engineers, and Lieutenant Foster. A tre- 
mendous fire of artillery greeted them, but in the face of this they 
pressed on, gained the battery, cut down the men, and were already 
wheeling the captured guns on the foe, when the latter, perceiving 
how few were the numbers of the assailants, turned, and poured in 
from the whole line, simultaneous volleys of musketry. It was like the 
explosion of some gigantic mine. The entire space of four hundred 
yards between the two forts was a blaze of fire ; and when it had 
passed, scarcely a third of the assaulting column remained on their 
feet. With wild shouts the Mexicans now poured to the attack, 
and the Americans were driven from their guns, and hurled bleeding 
back from the lines. The day, for a moment, seemed lost. At this 
perilous crisis, Cadwalader, with the right wing of his brigade, ac- 
companied by the hght battalion left to cover Huger's battery, ar- 
rived to the rescue. The ground beneath was strewed with dead, 
as thickly as a harvest field with gram ; while, through the smoke, 
the shattered column of Wright was seen recoiling. The roar of the 
artillery ; the rattling of small arms ; the plunging of round shot 
from Chapultepec, and the tumultuous cheers that rose from the 
Mexicans, who considered themselves already victors, did not, for a 
second, check the advance of the galknt reserves. They came into 
action, on the contrary, as resolutely as on parade, the. eleventh, 
under Colonel Graham, leading. 

Never did American soldiers, brave as they have ever been, 
acquit themselves so heroically as on that day. The duty of the 
eleventh was to charge the battery, and, at the word of their leader, 
they raised a hurrah and plunged into the smoke. At every step 
they passed the dead body of some fellow soldier who had perished 
in the preceding assault. At every step a comrade fell from their 
ranks. But the stern voice of their leader, crying, "close up — for- 
ward !" continually urged them on. The batteries in front vomited 
grape and cannister incessantly. Hundreds were already down, and 
others were falling fast ; yet they did not falter, but quickened their 
pace to a run. their leader waving his sword at their head. He had 



CAPTURE OF MOLINO DEL RET. 



117 



already received six wounds, and at this moment a ball struck him 
in the breast, and he fell from his saddle : " forward, my men," he 
rried with his dying breath ; " my word is always forward !" There 
was a pause at this terrible sight; but then the cry of revenge 
arose, and, with a shout, heard over all the uproar of the conflict ; 
they rushed upon the enemy's guns. The Mexicans gave way in 
consternation, appalled by that tremendous huzza. Lieutenant 
Tippin, springing on one of the captured pieces, waved his sword for 
his men to follow ; but at this instant a withering fire was opened 
from some neighboring house-tops that overlooked the battery, and 
he was forced back. But the check was only for a moment. On 
came the Americans, cheering and firing ; they swept over the hnes ; 
they scattered the dismayed foe ; they were masters of that part of 




BATTLE OF MOLINO DEL REV. 



the field. But they had purchased the victory with the loss of theii 
•best officers, and of more than half their men. 

While this terrible struggle had been going on in the centre, one 
only less sanguinary had been transacting at the right. Here Gar- 
land's brigade, sustained by Dunn's artillery, assaulted the mill, and 



118 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

after a desperate contest, drove the Mexicans from this position, and 
compelled them to take refuge under the guns of Chapultepec. 
Dunn's light battery, and the two heavier pieces of Huger, were 
now harnessed, and went thundering down the declivity, until they 
reached the ground lately occupied by the enemy, when, unlimber- 
ing, they opened a destructive fire on the fugitives. The Mexicans 
breaking their ranks, fled in consternation, the stronger treading 
down the weaker. The captured cannon were also turned on the 
flying crowd. Mercy, for that day, had deserted every bosom. The 
Mexicans, earlier in the combat, had bayoneted the wounded 
Americans left behind at Wright's repulse, and now, the victors, 
burning to revenge the slaughter of their comrades, spared none. The 
air was filled with the cries of the fugitives, the shrieks of the 
wounded, the hissing of the grape, and the boom of the guns from 
Chapultepec, which rose like trumpet blasts, at intervals in the fight 
On the American left, meantime, the wave of battle surged wildly 
to and fro. The attack had been commenced in this quarter by 
Colonel Mcintosh, at the head of the second brigade, who, sustain- 
ed by the fire of Duncan's battery, moved rapidly down the 
slope to assault Casa Mata. The advancing column soon com- 
ing within the sweep of Duncan's fire, masked his battery, on which 
he was compelled to cease. The enemy now opened a terrific dis- 
charge of small arms. The brigade, nevertheless, pushed forward. 
Fiercer and fiercer gusts of fire swept the intervening space, scorch- 
ing up the front of Mcintosh's column as if it had been grass upon a 
prairie. One fourth of the men had aheady fallen, and yet the foot 
of Casa Mata was not attained. Mcintosh himself was severely 
wounded. Lieutenant-Colonel Scott, pressing on, and refusing to 
avail himself of cover, was shot dead. " Stoop behind the wall, they 
are going to fire," said one of his officers. "Martin Scott never 
stooped," was the proud reply. At that instant a ball entered his 
breast ; he fell back, and placing his cap over his heart, expired. The 
column had now reached the edge of the parapet. But here, to their 
consternation, they discovered that Casa Mata, instead of being only 
a common field work, was an old Spanish citadel of stone, sur- 
rounded with bastioned intrenchments and impassable ditches. The 
loss of so many officers, the terrible slaughter in the ranks, and this 
imexpected obstacle in front, proved too much even for this gallant 
brigade; it fell into disorder, and retreated hastily to the left of Dun-' 
can's battery. As the Americans turned and fled, the Mexicans 
stepped out on the walls, and delivered a parting volley, while the 
air rung with the clang of their triumphal music. 



CAPTURE OF MOLINO DEL REY. 119 

But defeat had met the enemy in another quarter. Mcintosh had 
.scarcely moved to the attack, when an immense hody of infantry 
and cavalry was suddenly seen advancing around the end of Casa 
Ma ta, opposite to our extreme left, with the obvious intention to charge 
and cut to pieces the storming party. This was the moment when 
Duncan had ceased firing in consequence of being masked by Mcin- 
tosh's column ; and he seized the occasion to gallop, with his bat- 
tery, to the furthest left. As the Mexican cavalry came thundering 
down, several thousand strong, directly in his front, he opened with 
grape and cannister. At the second round the squadron broke and 
fled in disorder. Major Sumner calling on his command to follow, 
charged on the disordered foe, and completed the triumph. Sum- 
ner's way led him right in front of Casa Mata, and aware of his 
danger, he swept by like a whirlwind ; but such was the intensity of 
the enemy's fire, that, though under it only ten seconds, every third 
saddle in his troop was emptied. Once beyond this peril, he burst 
like a thunder-bolt, on the lancers. The enemy, in this quarter, was 
soon driven beyond reach. But at Casa Mata he was still invulne- 
rable. It was just at this moment that the assault of Mcintosh had 
been repulsed, and, as Duncan turned from witnessing the flight of 
the lancers, he heard the rejoicings of the foe in the citadel, and saw 
the third brigade recoihng in confusion. Instantly his guns were 
turned upon Casa Mata again, whose walls rattled to the shot as if 
to hail. The enemy's triumph was speedily at an end. Looking 
over the plain he beheld the Mexican battalions every where in 
flight, and, knowing the citadel to be no longer tenable, he hurried to 
evacuate it. The Americans were* now masters of the field. The 
conflict had lasted two hours, and been the most sanguinary of the 
war. One-third of Worth's command were either killed or wounded ; 
and two of his best regiments were almost totally destroyed. The 
enemy had lost three thousand, among them General Leon, the bravest 
of their leaders. In obedience to his orders. Worth proceeded to 
destroy the cannon moulds found in the mill, and to blow up Casa 
Mata ; after which, with eight hundred prisoners, he returned to 
Tacubaya. 

Such was the terrible battle of Molino del Rey. The way was 
now cleared to assault Chapultepec ; and Scott began to prepaie for 
the final struggle. The two following days were spent in comple- 
ting his reconnoisances and carrying out his grand scheme of de- 
ceiving the foe as to the real point of attack. The late victories had 
deprived the enemy of most of his cannon, and of those which 
remained, the larger portion were mounted at the gates on the 



120 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

Acapulco road, where the Mexicans expected the mam assault. 
Scott did all he could to maintain this delusion on the part of Santa 
Anna. Th(J divisions of Twiggs, Pillow and Quitman were accord- 
ingly, on the 11th, concentrated on the Acapulco road, as if with 
the design of storming the capital on that side ; but in the succeeding 
night. Pillow and Quitman were secretly moved to Tacubaya, 
leaving Twiggs to threaten the gates in front. The stratagem com^ 
pletely succeeded. The enemy, still under the impression that the 
real attack was to be on the Acapulco road, directed his chief 
attention to that quarter. He was not undeceived, even when, on 
the morning of the 12th, Scott began to bombard Chapultepec, from 
batteries erected on commanding points during the preceding night. 
As the day progressed, however, and the guns, played more briskly, 
the enemy began to entertain uneasy apprehensions lest he had been 
over-reached, but the fire on Chapultepec was maintained with such 
fury that it was impossible to throw reinforcements iyto the place. 
Large masses of the foe, however, collected on the roads leading 
(rom the city to it, but, as often as they ventured to approach the 
tiill, were driven back by the American batteries. A few succors 
were finally thrown into the beleagured castle. Here the peril was 
*^:Xtreme. The American guns were handled with the accuracy of 
rifles, and an enemy dared not show himself without being killed. 
All day the cannonade and bombardment continued. The sky was 
traversed incessantly by whirling shehs. The stout walls of the 
castle began to gape in ruins. On their side the Mexicans were not 
idle, but, avt'^are that Chapultepec was their last stronghold, fought 
with a courage that extorted admiration from their very foes. Du- 
ring the whole of that terrible day the castle rained down fire on 
its assailants. But it was in vahi. Undaunted, the Americans 
stood their ground. 

The morning of the 13th dawned: it was the last day of the 
capital. Twiggs was still thundering at the gates on the Acapulco 
road ; but Quitman and Pillow had been recalled, as we have seen, 
and were now to storm Chapultepec. This hill, besides its steep 
ascent, is defended by a wall skirting its foot : half way up is an- 
other wall ; and on the top, at an elevation of one hundred and fifty 
feet above the plain, is the castle itself, an almost impregnable work, 
and used by the Mexicans as a military college. The main building 
IS about six hundred feet long ; the whole fortress nine hundred; 
and nothing can be stronger or more splendid than this structure, 
with its wings, bastions," parapets, redoubts and batteries. The 
cannon were manned by the most skilful gunners in the Mexican 



STORMING OF CHAPULTEPEC. 121 

army, among them several distinguished French artillerists. The 
hill was spotted with forts and outposts ; and honey-combed with 
mines. The garrison of the place, though small, was composed of 
picked troops, and commanded by General Bravo, one of the ac- 
knowledged heroes of the republic. Scott resolved to storm the 
castle in two columns, the one assaulting on the west, the other on 
the south-east. The first was to be led by Pillow, preceded by a 
forlorn hope of two hundred and fifty men selected from Worth's reg- 
ulars: the second was entrusted to Quitman, who, in like manner, had a 
forlorn hope drawn from the division of Twiggs. Worth, with the 
remainder of his veterans, was to turn the castle, and come into the 
road on the north, there to assist in the assault, if necessary, or, if 
not, to cut off the enemy's retreat. The Mexicans, during the whole 
of the 12th, as on the preceding days, were seen busily engaged in 
strengthening the defences at the foot of the hill, and along the two 
roads leading thence to the capital ; men, women and children in 
thousands laboring at the patriotic task. 

The cannonade on Chapultepec was resumed at dawn of the ISth, 
and continued until eight, A. M., when a cessation in the firing was 
the signal for attick. Instantly the two columns rushed to the 
assault. Pillow, on the west, advanced through a grove filled with 
sharp-shooters, whom the voltigeurs soon drove in. An open space, 
about five rods wide, which intervened between the trees and the 
ascent, was scoured by incessant discharges of musketry. The Amer- 
icans gathered in clusters at the edge of the wood, the storming party 
of picked men in front, with loads drawn and bayonets fixed : and 
close after them came the 9th, its gallant leader. Colonel Ransom, at the 
head. At this crisis Pillow fell severely wounded ; his second in 
command, Cadwalader, was at his post behind. It was no time to 
hesitate. " Forward," cried Ransom, plunging into the deluge of 
file; "there must be no faltering — forward!" The soldiers an- 
swered with a cheer, and following at a run, gained the foot of the 
ascent. Ransom was still in the lead, pressing on. " Forward," 
he shouted, and fell dead, shot through the brain. At this 
sight the fury of the soldiers knew no bounds. Vociferating his 
name, and mingling it with cries of vengeance, they dashed up the 
rocky acclivity, the 9th mingling with the stormers and even pushing 
ahead. The first battery was carried in an instant, and the 
crowd swept on, the rifle shots ringing sharp and clear over the 
hurtling sound of the enemy's grape. Scores of the assailants 
dropped : but the survivors only increased their speed ; and shooting 
the men left to fire the mines, gained the edge of the ditch. The 

M — L 



122 



THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 



fascines were flung down, and the foot of the wall, which here 
rose twelve feet high, reached. There was now a momentary pause 
until the ladders could be brought up, the 9th having advanced 
with such impetuosity as to leave them in the rear. During this 
interval, the Americans covered the hill Hke a swarm of bees, while 
the foe, flinging hand grenades into the mass, shouted victory inces- 




STORMING OF CHAPULTEPEC. 



santly. The assailants, however, gave huzza for huzza, pouring in- 
continual volleys, until the smoke rose over the crest of the hill as 
from the pit of a volcano. At last the ladders arrived, when the 
men swarmed on the wall, Lieut. Armistead of the 6th leading. 
Another wall, at the distance of ten feet, was as quickly surmounted. 
The soldiers of the diff'erent companies, each striving to be foremost, 
were now mixed pell-mell, and came pouring over the wall, along its 
whole length, like a continuous line of surf Captain Barnard of 
the voltigeurs was the first to plant a regimental color on the for 
tress. Captain Biddle and Lieutenant-Colonel Johnston followed ; 
and in an instant the platform was filled. Nor were the men of 



REDUCTION OF CHAPULTEPEC. 123 

Pillow's column alone in this moment of triumph, for a portion >of 
Quitman's division, climbing the hill from the north-east, had arrived 
ni season to storm the walls, and enter Chapultepec side by side 
with the others. 

The division of Quitman, indeed, had conquered as great, if not 
greater obstacles than that of Pillow. Before it could reach the 
foot of the hill, it had to cut its way along a causeway, defended by 
ditches and batteries, manned with immense numbers of the enemy. 
Reinforced by General Smith and the rifles, however, Quitman gal- 
lantly struggled along ; but not without losing Major Twiggs and 
Captain Casey, who led his two storming parties. At last the New 
York, Pennsylvania and South Carolina volunteers, eager to reach 
the hill and join in the assault, leaped from the causeway, crossed 
the meadows in front, and, attended by portions of the storming 
parties, entered the outer enclosure of Chapultepec. They did not 
effect this without great slaughter on their part ; but their object was 
gained ; they arrived at the castle simultaneously with the men of 
Pillow, and entered it with his forlorn hope. Foremost in the ad- 
vance were Lieutenant Reid of the New York volunteers, and 
Lieutenant Steel of the 2nd infantry. Cheers on cheers, breaking 
from the excited conquerors, now shook the welkin and carried 
terror to the heart of the capital itself. The garrison still fought in 
detachments, few asking quarter, fewer, alas ! obtaining it ; for the 
Americans, exasperated by the cruelties at Molino del Rey, turned 
the rout into a massacre. About fifty general officers, one hundred 
cadets, and some private soldiers were, however, taken prisoners. 
The cadets resisted desperately, some being killed fighting, who 
were not fourteen years of age. But we draw a veil over this san- 
guinary day, when the passions of men, excited to phrenzy, made 
them, for the time, Hke demons. During the assault, the American 
batteries threw shells upon the enemy over the heads of our own 
men, and thus effectually prevented the hill being reinforced. The 
castle was found riddled by balls. In less than a minute after the 
last wall was surmounted, the great flag of Mexico was hauled 
down, and the stars and stripes, shooting, meteor-like, to the sky, 
announced that Chapultepec had fallen. 

Immediately after the reduction of the place, the Commander-in- 
chief arrived in person, and, ascending to the summit of the hill, 
from which the approaches to the city were seen as in a map, pro- 
ceeded to direct the assault. Two roads led from the foot of Cha- 
pultepec to the gates of the town. One, on the left, terminated at 
the San Cosmo gate ; another, on the right, ended in the Belen gate 



124 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

Along each of these causeways ran an acqueduct on arches, the 
carriage way passing on either side. The reconnoisances on the 
preceding days had convinced Scott that the San Cosmo route was 
the weakest, and accordingly he had intended the main attack to he 
made here. For this purpose he had ordered Worth to turn the 
castle during the fight, in order to be ready to advance the instant 
Chapultepec had fallen. Pillow, just as the assault on the castle 
was about to begin, had sent to Worth for reinforcements, and the 
latter had despatched Clarke's brigade, thus reducing his forces one- 
half: nevertheless, as soon as the hill was stormed. Worth pushed 
forward towards Mexico, though having but a single brigade. Scott, 
perceiving his weakness, hastened to send back Clarke's brigade, 
and to add to it Cadwalader's ; and having left the 15th infantry to 
garrison Chapultepec, followed Worth himself The Americans 
soon reached a suburb, not far from the San Cosmo gate, where 
they found the enemy prepared to make another stand, admirably 
fortified behind ditches, and among houses. The moment Worth 
'came within range, a furious discharge of musketry was opened on 
him, the Mexicans firing from gardens, windows and house-tops. 
Cadwalader's howitzers were promptly ordered to the front, prece- 
ded by skirmishers and pioneers, with crowbars and pickaxes, to 
force windows and doors, or to hew their way through walls. Thus, 
literally hewing every inch of their progress, the assailants ad- 
vanced, and by evening had carried two batteries, cleared the 
village, and gained a position close to the San Cosmo gate. Here, 
at 8 P. M., Worth posted sentinels, and took up his quarters for the 
night. The assault on the gate was reserved for the morning, when 
the troops should be fresh : and the gate once carried, the heart of, 
the city would be open to the invaders. 

Meantime, however, the ardor of Quitman and his troops had 
frustrated, in part, the intention of Scott, by convertii'lg the attack on 
the Belen gate from a feigned to a real assault. As we have seen, 
only a portion of Quitman's men had participated directly in the 
storm of Chapultepec, the rest having been retarded by the 
defences at its foot. These works, however, were finally carried, 
and the hill having fallen, Quitman, concentrating his forces, 
rushed forward along the Belen causeway. He was met by a ter- 
rific fire from artillery in front, and by cross-fires from batteries on 
the flank ; but, nevertheless, he pressed on, his soldiers availing them* 
selves of the arches of the aqueduct as a partial cover, running from 
one to the other between the discharges of the foe. In this manner 
they advanced, riddled by the fire in flank, until the batteries on the 



Scott's entrance into the city of mexico. 125 

sides were silenced by the American artillery. The enemy had long 
since sought the shelter of the gate. ' It was past noon when the 
assailants approached this formidable barrier. Instantly raising a 
shout they rushed forward, and, after a desperate conflict, carried 
the gate, and with loud huzzas entered the city. But the day was 
not 3^et won. Directly in front was another battery, with flanking 
batteries as before. The rifles, who had been foremost in the strife 
at the garita, sprang to the charge again, and seizing a house and 
some arches of the aqueduct, held their ground, though four dif- 
ferent attempts were made to drive them out. Meanwhile, a battery 
of sand bags had been constructed at the garita, from which a con- 
tinual fire was kept up on the enemy. For hours the fight raged at 
this point, without either side gaining the advantage. When night 
fell, the troops in advance were recalled : the battery at the gate was 
finished, and the men slept on their arms behind it, or sheltered 
among the arches of the aqueduct. Scott had frequently sent word 
to Quitman to hold back ; yet the ardor of his brave troops, and the 
emulation natural to the occasion, rendered it impossible, perhaps, 
for the Commander-in-chief to be obeyed. Had Quitman's attack 
been a feint, as originally intended, many valuable lives, however, 
would have been saved ; among them the heroic Captain Drum, and 
Lieutenant Benjamin, both of the fourth artillery, who fell at the 
garita. 

The night that ensued was one of terror and suspense within the 
city. It was known in the afternoon that the Americans were at the 
gates, and might be expected at the great square every minute. 'The 
laws of war in relation to cities taken by assault, were remembered, 
and the most revolting crimes, in consequence, expected : arson, 
theft, murder, and other deeds to make humanity shudder. The foreign 
residents hastened to the houses of the consuls ; the wealthier citi- 
zens, packing up a few moveables, prepared to fly ; and the popula- 
tion of the streets, now swelled by the convicts of the jails, which had 
disgorged their inmates, wandered up and down, mingling oaths, la- 
mentations, and cries of alarm in horrid discord. Meantime, Santa 
Anna, with his army, was stealthily retreating by the northern gate, the 
only one left open to his flight. At every pause in the uproar at the 
gates, the cry arose that the Americans were in the town. Mothers 
pressed their babes in an agony of fright. Hoary sires swore to 
die defending the honor of their daughters. The churches were 
filled by aflrighted crowds, who clung to the altar, and vainly 
invoked heaven to save the capital in this extremity. The terror 
was the greater, because, up to the very fall of Chapultepec, the 

M L* 



126 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

Mexi^jans had relied on their skilful defences, and the overwhelming 
numbers of their troops : and now, when they saw their last hope 
shivered, and the city about to become a prey to the invader, they 
regarded it as the punishment marked out by an angry God for their 
manifold national crimes. 

In this emergency, the city council determined to make an appeal 
fo the generosity of the conquerors, and accordingly, at 4, A. M., 
on the following morning, a deputation from that body waited on 
Scott. The embassy being admitted to his presence, informed him 
of the flight of Santa Anna, and asked terms of capitulation in favor 
of the churches, citizens, and municipal authorities. The Commander- 
in-chief replied that it was too late to offer a capitulation, for the 
city was at his mercy, and that the terms to which it wcTuld be ad- 
mitted should be dictated by himself. In sorrow and alarm the 
deputation took its leave, for they had nothing to rely on but the 
clemency of the victors. It was not the intention of the American 
General, however, to take advantage of the defenceless condition of 
the citizens, and, except a contribution exacted fro-m the authorities, 
Mexico suffered none of the evils attendant on being carried .by 
assault. It is to the honor of the American army, that, notwith- 
standing its severe losses in the attack, and the remembrance of the many 
cruelties perpetrated by the enemy when in the ascendant, its 
entrance into the capital was signalized by no such scenes as took 
place at Badajoz and San Sebastian, under Wellington, in the Pen- 
insular war. No conflagration reddened the sky; no murders were 
committed that plunder might be unchecked; no women were violated ; 
no shrines stripped ; no riot and drunkenness prevailed Never, in the 
whole range of modern history, has a city, carried by assault, exhi- 
bited such little misconduct on the part of the conquerors after the 
battle was over. 

The morning had just dawned — it was the 14th of September, 
1847 — when Scott issued his orders for Quitman to advance to the 
great square. The troops of Worth were directed to enter the town 
simultaneously, but to halt at the Alameda park, within a few 
hundred feet of the plaza. This was done that Quitman might have 
the honor of hoisting the American flag on the national palace, he 
having been the first to gain a foothold within the walls of the city. 
His division marched rapidly to the heart of the town, as if fearing 
to be anticipated, and at 7, A. M., planted the stars and stripes in 
the conquered capital. The entrance of the troops was the signal 
for the suspense and alarm, which had sunk towards morning, to 
re-commence. A buzz of excitement ran through the streets. 



THE CITY OP MEXICO. 127 

Crowds began to collect at the corners. As the hours wore oo, the 
throng increased, looks of curiosity, terror and hatred, alternating* 
with the characters of the spectators. About nine o'clock, the blast 
of a trumpet was heard, and immediately after Scott entered the 
great square, surrounded by a brilliant staff, and escorted by the second 
dragoons. He was easily recognized by his lofty form, and, as the 
crowd looked on this celebrated General, the splendor of his achieve- 
ments, though gained at their own expense, infected them, for the 
moment, and. they joined in the tumultuous huzzas with which his 
own troops greeted his advent. On the part of the Americans, it 
was a scene of the wildest enthusiasm. In the conquest of this re 
nowned capital they beheld the realization of a thousand dreams. In 
their front was the great cathedral of Mexico, and beside it the 
palace which the old Spanish viceroys had inhabited, both edifices 
that surpassed in size and splendor, any thing which their own land 
could afford. No foot, in hostile guise, had trod the pavement 
beneath them for more than three centuries. Enthroned amid her 
fastnesses, and surrounded by her waters, like another Venice, 
Mexico had boasted, and Europe had endorsed the vaunt, that she 
was impregnable. Yet here she lay, at the mercy of a conqueror. 
Less than nine thousand men had scaled her apparently impassable 
mountains ; had defeat-ed her thirty thousand defenders ; had success- 
fully stormed her numerous batteries, and had finally cut their way 
hterally through her walls. As the American soldiers thought of 
these achievements, and comparing them with others in history, 
reflected how transcendant they had been, what wonder that tears 
of delirious joy rolled down their cheeks, and shouts of enthusiasm 
rent the air ! Nor, when the star spangled banner was seen on the 
top of the national palace, floating to and fro in the sunshine and 
breeze, what miracle that those shouts were repeated, until the city 
shook in its utmost recesses ! 

The glittering pageant of Scott's entrance was over, and the 
soldiers, subsiding from their excitement, were beginning to separate 
to their quarters, when the population of the streets, comprising the 
leperos and discharged convicts, secretly instigated by emissaries 
left behind by Santa Anna, began to fire on the troops. At this 
conduct, so base, considering his forbearance, Scott issued orders for 
severe retaliation. The artillery was directed to clear the streets 
Parties were sent to break open the houses from which the firing 
occurred, and slay whoever should be found armed within. The 
soldiers were not restrained to giving quarter. A terrible, but de- 
sultory street fight succeeded. In some sections of the city, the 



128 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

insurrection was speedily put down ; in others, it lingered during the 
whole day, and even extended into the night. At last the Americans 
drove the insurgents from every refuge, and becoming tired of 
slaughter, refrained from the bloody work. It was found, after the 
riot had been quelled, that those engaged in it had not universally 
confined themselves to assailing the Americans, but that many, under 
cover of a rising against the invaders, had only sought an occasion 
for pillage and murder. However much the massacre of the leperos 
may be regretted, it cannot be censured. The retribution was wan^ 
tonly provoked. The blood shed lies at the door of Santa Anna, Oi 
whoever instigated the insurrection. It was, perhaps, supposed that 
the rising would prove as fatal to Scott as a similar one in Madrid 
had turned out for Murat. The American commander, with praise- 
worthy forbearance, did not allow this riot to alter his conduct 
towards the city. It will be his noblest epitaph in future ages, that 
he could conquer and forgive ahke. 

The fall of their capital strnck dismay into the hearts of the Mex- 
icans. The mournful intelligence spread rapidly in all directions^ 
and was received every where with lamentations and tears. But 
they did not yet entirely despond. Inheriting a portion of that stub- 
born tenacity, which has ever distinguished their Spanish ancestors, 
they resolved still to continue the struggle, though success was now 
hopeless in all eyes but theirs. They were confirmed in this resolu- 
tion by a proclamation, issued by Santa Anna from the city of Gua- 
daloupe, whither he had retired on his flight from the capital. In 
this proclamation he informed the Mexicans that he had resigned 
his office of President into the hands of the Chief Justice of the Su- 
preme Court, in order that, in the perilous crisis to which the repub- 
lic had been reduced, he might devote his undivided energies to the 
field. He advised that the army should hereafter make war in de- 
tail ; and announced his intention .to attack, with a portion of it, the 
communications of Scott. The new government met at Queratero. 
There was soon discovered among its members a considerable diver- 
sity of opinion, some being in favor of concluding a peace, while 
others were resolute to continue the struggle. 

Meantime Santa Anna, attended by a force of about eight thou- 
sand infantry and cavalry, suddenly appeared before Puebla, on the 
85th of September, eight days after the date of his proclamation. 
The American garrison in this city had been besieged for nearly a 
fortnight by an irregular force of Mexicans ; but Colonel Childs, the 
commander, had resolutely maintained his post. To Santa Anna's 
demand for an evacuation of the city, he returned a prompt and 



CONTRIBUTIONS LEVIED. 129 

decided refusal. The Mexican leader immediately erected intrench- 
ments, and began a furious cannonade on the American works. 
His fire was returned by Colonel Childs, who, throwing shot, shells 
and grenades incessantly into the heart of the town, produced such 
an immense loss of property, that the enemy was finally compelled to 
desist. On the 1st of October, Santa Anna, finding that the beseiged 
were not to be reduced except by a protracted blockade, and learn- 
ing that a valuable train had started from Xalapa destined for the 
Amorican army, withdrew at the head of two thousand cavalry and 
infantry, with three pieces of artillery, and marched to intercept the 
train. But meantime imputations had been spread, chiefly by his 
enemies, affecting his fidelity to Mexico, and, on his route, he sud- 
denly found himself deserted by his whole force, excepting about 
one hundred and thirty hussars. He now retired in the direction of 
Orizaba, near which he possessed an estate. In this vicinity he 
remained concealed, a memorable example of the instability of 
power, and the fleeting nature of popularity. Finally, on the 20th 
of January, 1848, an expedition was despatched to Orizaba to cap- 
ture him, but he eff^ected his escape, and, soon after, left his native 
country, an exile for the third time. With him Mexico lost her 
ablest General. 

Santa Anna having retired from before Puebla, the siege languished 
until the 12th of October, when it was raised. Meantime General 
Lane, being on his way from Vera Cruz to the capital, marched, at 
the head of two regiments, several companies of mounted men, and 
five pieces of artillery, to chastise the guerillas who had, during the 
past two months, continued to annoy the trains. On the 9th of 
October he attacked a large body of them at Huamantla, and gained 
a complete victory, which, however, was saddened by the loss of 
the heroic Captain Walker. Nine days subsequently he reduced the 
strong town of Atlixco, the rendezvous of this species of combatants, 
after a short but severe cannonade. These two victories may be 
considered as having broken up the guerilla organization in that 
section of the country, though this description of force still continued 
to exist, and to render the roads unsafe, until the declaration of 
peace. These guerillas were not all patriotic : some being mere rob- 
bers, as ready to waylay a countryman as an enemy. 

All serious opposition being now at an end, Scott proceeded to 
execute the orders of his government, and levy contributions from 
the conquered territories. The sums were apportioned according to 
the wealth and population of the states. All taxes were directed 
to be paid to the American authorities. To secure the success of 

22 



130 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

these orders the army was divided into numerous small parties, 
*vhich, spreading over the country, enforced obedience wherever 
they came. But, as the American force was too inconsiderable to 
cover, in this way, any great extent of territory, the sums collected 
were of comparatively small amount. It was believed by many, 
that the Mexicans, on discovering the invading army thus subdivided, 
would rise in insurrection ; but the terror of the American arms had 
now entirely subdued all thoughts of resistance. Even those who, 
after the fall of the capital, had still entertained hopes of successfully 
protracting the war, were now utterly disheartened. The party in 
favor of peace became stronger daily. The powers of Mr. Trist had 
been, meantime, revoked by the United States ; but that gentleman, 
anxious to effect a treaty with the enemy, continued to negotiate 
notwithstanding. Scott also labored, by every honorable means, 
to induce the misguided enemy to listen to terms of accommodation. 
These mutual efforts were ultimately crowned with success. A 
treaty was signed between Mr. Trist and the Mexican Commissioners, 
which, being immediately forwarded to the United States, was, after 
some hesitation on the part of the President, laid before the Senate, 
and by that body adopted, with certain amendments. The treaty 
in this altered form, was then returned to Mexico, for ratification by 
the Congress, which was convoked at Queratero for that purpose. 

Meantime Scott, in consequence of certain charges made against 
nim by officers of the army, was deprived of his command ; and a 
Court of Inquiry, to examine the allegations, and for other purposes, 
was ordered to assemble at the city of Mexico. The charges against 
the late Commander-in-chief were, however, withdrawn, the princi- 
pal complainant, General Worth, refusing, in the end, to prosecute 
them. The Court, however, continued to sit, in order to examine 
into the military conduct of General Pillow, the accuser being Scott. 
The inquiry was subsequently removed to the United States, and 
continued after peace had been declared. It is to be regretted that, 
after the record of such brilliant deeds, we must impair this narrative 
with these unfortunate, not to say disgraceful transactions. While 
this Court was prosecuting its inquiries at the city of Mexico, Gene- 
ral Butler, who, as senior Major-General, had succeeded Scott in the 
chief command, concluded an armistice with the enemy, to endure 
for two months. This proceeding was wise and generous, since it 
enabled the Congress at Queratero to discuss the ratification of the 
treaty, without the appearance of compulsion. This arniiistice, 
beginning towards the close of February, 1848, was virtually con 
tinned un^il the declaration of peace. 



SKIRMISHES IN CALIFORNIA. 



131 



But while hostilities, in the heart of the Mexican republic, were 
thus at an end, they were breaking out afresh in the distant 
provinces of California and New Mexico. In California, the enemy, 
though overcome, had never been thoroughly subdued, and this in 




MEXICAN GUERRILLAS- 



consequence of the insufficient forces despatched by the United 
States to that quarter. Upper California, indeed, remained com- 
paratively contented under the American rule ; but Lower Califor- 
nia was more difficult to reconcile to its new masters. The entire 
strength of the invading army did not amount to one thousand, while 
the Mexicans had at least five thousand in the field. Under these 
circumstances the war was carried on principally by sea. The chief 
ports of Lower California were blockaded, and occasionally detach- 
ments of marinel and sailors being landed, skirmishes occurred with 
the foe, in which generally the Americans were victorious. Wherever 
garrisons had been left, they maintained themselves against the 
assaults of the Mexicans. At San Jose, Lieutenant Haywood, of 
the Navy, at the head of seventy sailors and marines, and a few 
native Californians, held out against a force of five thousand gueril- 
las for twenty-one days. He was finally relieved by a detachment 



132 THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 

landed from the Cyane, Captain Dupont. This unsettled condition 
of affairs continued until the declaration of peace. 

In New Mexico somewhat similar scenes were enacted. General 
Price, however, still remained in command of the American forces 
here, and, through his activity and wise precautions, the disaffected 
were effectually restrained. Hearing, at Santa Fe, rumors that 
General Urrea was advancing against Chihuahua and El Paso, 
threatening an attack on the latter place, which was garrisoned by 
Americans, Price left Santa Fe, on the 8th of February, 1848, for the 
relief of his countrymen. Urrea, learning the approach of these 
reinforcements, abandoned his design. Price arrived at El Paso on 
the 20th of February, and continuing his route, reached Chihuahua, 
three hundred miles further south, on the first of March. No signs 
of an enemy being visible, he took peaceable possession of the town. 
On the 16th of March, however, the Americans came up with a 
large body of hostile Mexicans, commanded by Don Angel Trias, at 
Santa Cruz de Rosales, twenty-two leagues from Chihuahua, and 
immediately a sharp combat ensued. The action began at nine A. 
M., and was continued until towards evening, when the Americans 
stormed the place, capturing the Mexican General, besides fourteen 
pieces of ordnance, and one thousand muskets. This victory closed 
the war in that quarter of Mexico. 

The treaty of peace having been ratified by the Senate of the 
United States in March, 1848, and subsequently by the Mexican 
Congress in the ensuing May, the war was at an end. By this 
treaty Mexico ceded to the United States a considerable territory. 
The boundary line, as defined by the third article, commences in the 
Gulf of Mexico, three leagues from land ; thence runs up the middle 
of the Rio Grande to its intersection with the southern boundary of 
New Mexico ; thence along that southern boundary to the western 
boundary of the same ; thence north to tlie first branch of the Gila 
which it intersects ; thence down the middle of that branch and of 
the river to the Colorado ; thence it runs across westwardly, and 
strikes the Pacific at a point one league south of San Diego. The 
free navigation oi the Gulf of California, and of the River Colorado, 
from the mouth of the Gila to the Gulf, was secured, by the 
same article, to the United States. In consideration of this sur- 
render of territory, the United States stipulated to pay to Mexico 
the sum of fifteen millions of dollars, as also to assume the claims 
lield against Mexico by American citizens, which were, it will be 
remembered, one of the original causes of the war. Other less im- 
portant clauses were contained in the treaty. Among them was a 
provision that the American army should evacuate the territory of 



TREATY OP PEACE. 



133 



Mexico within three months. Another clause provided for the 
renewal, for a period of eight years, of the treaty of commerce of 
1831 between the two republics. 

The evacuation of the territory of Mexico immediately took place, 
according to the provisions of the treaty. The regular army, when 
the war began, had consisted of fifteen regiments, the numbers of 
which, however, were reduced to the narrowest limits of a 
peace establishment, so that the entire force was less than eight 
thousand. Immediately after the declaration of war, the companies 
. were raised to the highest number allowed by the military system 
of the United States, so that a regiment of ten companies comprised 
eleven hundred non-commissioned officers and men. Besides this 
addition, two companies were added to each of the artillery regi- 
ments, so that the fifteen old regiments were made to compose a force 
of seventeen thousand four hundred and eighty men. This force, 
however, being deemed insufficient, ten new regiments were directed 
by Congress to be organized, tiius raising the numerical strength of 
the entire army to twenty -eight thousand three hundred and eighty 
non-commissioned officers and men. It was provided, however, 
that the ten regiments should be disbanded at the close of the war, 
which was accordingly done, and the army reduced to its original 
fifteen regiments. 

At least one generation, perhaps two, must elapse before an im- 
partial estimate can be formed of this contest. The judgment of 
aistory is always correct in the end. To future times we leave wnur 
would have been improper for us — the examination of the justice or 
injustice, the policy or impolicy of the Mexican war. 



I 




^^r, 





REPl'-LSS OF ME-XICAN CAVALKY AT PALO ALTO. 



ZACHARY TAYLOR 




T is customary to institute compar- 
isons between Taylor and Scott, 
Nothing can be more unjust. — 
Though each is a great General, 
there is little similarity between 
them ; and the endeavor to run a 
parallel injures one or both. The 
sole distinction that can be drawn, 
if any, is that Scott has more of the 
General in his composition, and 
Taylor more of the hero. 

The military qualities of Taylor, 
though neither varied nor brilliant, 
are all developed in a colossaj 
mould. His soundness of j adgment, 
his firmness of purpose, and his 
peculiar faculty of inspiring his 
army with the same heroic sentiments as himself, have enabled 
M— M* 137 



138 ZACHARY TAYLOR. 

him to win those astonishing victories which are the admira 
tion of Europe as well as of America. Even Scott, thougV. 
perhaps he has rivalled, has not surpassed those triumphs. But the 
character of Taylor rests not alone on its military renown. He is 
as prudent as brave. He is as wise in council as in field. Vanity 
appears to be foreign to his composition. Moderate in desiring 
fame himself, he is not envious of it in others. He yields the full 
measure of deserved praise to his subordinates, and appears to take 
pleasure in affording them opportunities for distinction. In manners 
he is simple and unostentatious. In his whole deportment there is 
something exalted and heroic, something of the calm majesty of 
assured genius. He has never obviously sought applause, and the 
results have verified the remark of the wise man, that popularity 
rarely comes when assiduously sought, but rather seeks those who 
seem to despise her favors. 

We have said that there is nothing brilliant, in the ordinary sense 
of the term, in the intellect of General Taylor. We mean by this 
that he is no melo-dramatic hero ; but a sturdy, earnest man, sin- 
cere and honest — a reality, and not a sham. He belongs to the 
class of intellects to which Washington, Cromwell, and others of 
that profound stamp belonged : not to the Murats, Peterboroughs, 
and other stage actors of history, half charlatans, half heroes. He 
possesses that which is worth more than the mere briUiancy of 
genius, a consummate wisdom which rarely or never errs in its con- 
clusions. His campaign on the Rio Grande is a proof of this. He 
did not make a single movement without first having maturely 
considered its propriety, and in no case, consequently, did he com- 
mit a false step. Subsequent events always sustained the accuracy 
of his judgment. When Scott, preparatory to the siege of Vera 
Cruz, withdrew the regulars from Taylor, he recommended to his 
subordinate to abandon Saltillo and fall back on Monterey. The 
same suggestion was made by the President. But Taylor thought 
this course unwise. He saw that if the enemy was to be checked 
at all, he must be met in the passes of the mountains beyond Sal- 
tillo. The battle of Buena Vista was the result. The importance 
of that victory cannot be too highly estimated. It not only preserved 
the country between Saltillo and the Rio Grande from returning to 
the hands of the Mexicans, but it broke the prestige of Santa Anna's 
name. It did more. It crushed the best appointed and most 
numerous army the enemy had ever brought into the field ; while it 
proved that the American volunteer was more than equal to the 
Mexican regular. All these consequences the wisdom of Taylor 



ZACHART TAYLOR. 139 

had foreseen. The battle of Buena Vista, moreover, was, in one 
sense, the cause of all our subsequent triumphs. It would be going 
too far, perhaps, to say that Cerro Gordo, Contreras and Chapultepec, 
would have been lost without it ; but we may assume it as certain, 
that in all those combats the desire to emulate Buena Vista was 
foremost in the thoughts of officers and men. " Soldiers, behold the 
sun of Austerlitz," said Bonaparte, on the morning of the battle of 
Jena ; and these words, stimulating them to rival former glories, 
won the day. This consummate judgment is visible in every act of 
Taylor's public career ; in his deportment to his officers, in his cor- 
respondence with the executive, in his conduct under the thousand 
annoyances of his campaign. 

Taylor, we have said, is as resolute in action as he is comprehen- 
sive in judgment. At Fort Brown, when he found his communica- 
tions with Point Isabel cut off, he daringly staked all on the valor 
of the little garrison, and marched to the coast for ammunition and 
stores. The morning after his arrival at Point Isabel, the report of 
guns at Matamoras announced an attack on the fort, and the army, 
with one voice, generously demanded to be led to the relief of their 
comrades. But Taylor hesitated. If he left the Point to succor 
Fort Brown, the object of his late movement would be entirely 
frustrated ; and accordingly he resolved to wait at least until he 
could hear from the garrison. The firmness of mind required for 
this decision can only be fully understood by imagining the obloquy 
he would have suffered if Brown and his little detachment had been 
cut off. So, at Buena Vista, Taylor accepted battle against the ad- 
vice of both Scott and the President ; and if he had lost the day, 
nothing could have saved him from a court martial. In deciding to 
fight Santa Anna, he perilled every life in his army ; for a defeat 
would have terminated in a general massacre : and thus he assumed 
a responsibility which few would have ventured on, even though as 
fully convinced of its wisdom as himself. 

We doubt, indeed, if there was another man in the army who 
would have risked the battle of Buena Vista under exactly similar 
circumstances. There can be no greater proof of the stubborn will 
of Taylor than the assertion of Santa Anna, that the Americans were 
thiice beaten, but that they did not know it. Some of Taylor's of 
ficers, on one of these occasions, advised him to retreat ; but he knew 
that this was impossible with his comparatively raw troops, and he 
fought on. " Every EngHshman must die here, if needs be," said 
Wellington at Waterloo ; and Taylor held substantially the same 
language at Buena Vista. His determination to conquer and hi«s 



140 . ZACHARY TAYLOR. 

confidence m victory were forcibly exhibited at the final turning 
point of the conflict. Several assaults of the Mexicans had been 
repulsed, and they were now making a third, and they believed, a 
decisive charge. At the head of a colunm five thousand strong, 
Santa Anna advanced to the attack. The outposts of the Americans 
were driven before him like chaff. O'Brien's battery had been 
captured ; Clay and Hardin had fallen desperately contending ; and 
Bragg's artillery was in imminent danger. The enemy was within 
thirty paces of the guns. In a few seconds his myriads would be 
upon them. Bragg, in consternation, sent to Taylor for succor. 
The memorable reply will live as long as history endures. Its 
determined spirit saved the day. Had Taylor hesitated for a minute, 
that wild ocean of Mexicans would have surged over the battery, 
and pouring on, buried leader and soldiers in one common and de- 
stroying deluge. It is the union of these two great qualities which 
has made Taylor so uniformly successful as a General. He has 
never fought a battle in which he was defeated, though he has fought 
many where victory was a miracle. 

Zachary Taylor was born in Orange county, Virginia, on the 24th 
of November, 17S4. His family was a respectable one, and had 
come originally from England, where it had belonged to the ranks 
of the gentry. When the subject of this sketch was but a few 
months old, his father emigrated to Kentucky, and settled in Jeff'er- 
son county, about five miles from the town of Louisville. After 
receiving an ordinary English education, the best that the frontier 
settlements could afford, young Zachary returned to his father, and 
for some years was occupied in agriculture. During the excitement 
caused by the movements of Burr, in 1807, Taylor joined- a volun- 
teer company ; but, on the subsidence of the alarm, devoted himself 
again to the cultivation of the soil. About this time an elder brother 
died, who bore a commission in the United States army, by which 
means an opening was afforded for the subject of our notice to enter 
the service. Accordingly, on the 3rd of May, 1808, he received a 
commission as First-Lieutenant. He was now in the element to 
which he had always aspired. Resolute, daring, adventurous, ac- 
customed to tales of Indian \Varfare, and taught to regard the 
service of his country as the most honorable of all pursuits, young 
Taylor resolved, from the moment he girded on his sword, to do his 
duty sincerely and assiduously, never doubting but that his reward 
would come in time. Even at this early age he was distinguished 
by that absence of impatience, which is a mark of steadfast and 
self-poised souls. 



ZACHARY TArLOR. l4l 

The routine of garrison duty on frontier posts, to which Taylor 
was confined for some years, affords no incident wortiiy of mention 
in this sketch. In 1810 he married, but was almost immediately 
called from home by duty, and for a whole year was prevented 
from seeing his wife and child. In the beginning of 1812 he was 
raised to the rank of Captain, and appointed to the command of Fort 
Harrison. This was a post on the Wabash, right in the heart of the 
Indian country, consisting of two block-houses, stockade works, and 
a few buildings for stores or magazines. Here Taylor was sta- 
tioned when war was declared. He soon became aware that the 
savages in his vicinity contemplated hostilities ; but though he had 
only sixteen effective men, he resolutely prepared for resistance. 
On the 3rd of September two men who were making hay near the 
fort were murdered by the Indians ; and now Taylor knew that the 
blow might be expected hourly to fall. Though debilitated by fever, 
he personally went the rounds, and saw that every possible precau- 
'tion was taken. On the 4th, towards evening, a number of Indians 
knocked at the gate of the fort, begging provisions and asking 
admittance. But Taylor, suspecting a stratagem, refused to admit 
them, though he supplied their wants. He then inspected the men's 
arms, and served out sixteen cartridges to each soldier, after which, 
exhausted by fatigue and sickness, he retired to snatch a few hours' 
respose. His last injunction, before repairing to his couch, was that 
the officers of the guard should walk round the inner side of the fort 
during the whole night to prevent a si5rprise. 

About eleven o'clock Taylor was roused from sleep by the gun 
of one of the sentinels, and springing from bed he rushed out, order- 
ing the m6n to their posts. Almost simultaneously the cry of fire 
was raised. The Indians had succeeded in igniting one of the 
block-houses, which was soon in flames. Alarm now seized the 
feeble garrison, and two of the men, giving up all for lost, sprang 
over the pickets and fled. For a while Taylor was »the only self- 
collected person in the fort. The block-house, which had been 
fired, contained a quantity of whiskey, and this now. burned with a 
fury that baffled every effort to subdue it ; while the horror of the 
scene was increased by the roar of the flames, the cries of the 
women in the fort, the howling of the savages, and the incessamt 
discharges of small-arms. Taylor saw that but one chance of safety 
remained: this was to tear off the roof of the barracks connecting 
with the block-house. To this work accordingly he addressed him- 
self. Encouraged by his words a party ascended to the roof amid a 
shower of bullets, and soon succeeded in their daring object. 



142 



ZACHART TAYLOR. 



Stimulated by this gleam of hope, the men now labored with 
redoubled energy. They closed up the gap, made by the destriic 
tion af the block-house, with a breastwork as high as a man's head 




DEFEKCB OF FORT HAftSIBON. 



They put out the fire, which was communicated to the barracks, 
again and again. While the able-bodied of the garrison, headed by 
their heroic leader, thus exposed themselves continually, the invalids, 
roused from their couches by the extremity of the peril, kept up an 
incessant fire on the savages from the other block-house and from 
the bastions. The Indians, on their part, maintained a steady 
discharge of musketry, accompanied with showers of arrows. The 
night would have been intensely dark, but for the lurid flames that 
lit the scene ; and by this terrible guide the combat was long 
continued. When the last ember of the block-house had been ex- 
tinguished, the struggle still went on, the flashes of the gunssufiicing 
for a mark to either party. During seven long hours the scales of 
fortune hung quivering, but when day began to break, the savages 
suddenly abandoned the assault, and the members of the little 



ZACHARY TAYLOR. 143 

garrison were left to congratulate themselves and tlieir heroic com- 
mander. Of the two men who had fled early in the night, one was 
killed before he had gone two hundred yards, and the other was 
glad to return to the fort towards dawn, grievously wounded. 

But the savages, though foiled in the attack, did not yet abandon 
all hopes of their prey. They now resorted to leaguer, and for 
more than a week environed the fort, out of reach of its guns, in such 
a manner as to prevent Taylor sending for succor. His posi- 
tion daily grew more precarious. A sickly garrison, with but scanty 
provisions, surrounded by bodies of hostile savages, and far from 
assistance, was the prospect that presented itself to the young 
Captain day and night. In this emergency he proved the heroic 
mould of his character. While other, and older heads, were trembling 
before dangers far less imminent, and succumbing to odds infinitely 
smaller, Taylor never, for one instant, entertained the thought of 
surrender. The same resolution to die at his post, or come off vic- 
torious, which characterised him on the awful field of Buena Vista, 
thirty years later, marked him now. And it triumphed. On the 
16th of the month, twelve days after the assault, a reinforcement of 
five hundred infantry, and six hundred mounted men, arrived and 
raised the siege. In his official letter, describing this battle, there is 
the same modesty, the same simplicity of style, and the same 
absence of exaggeration as in his memorable despatches from 
Mexico. He had already all the great qualities which subsequently- 
made him famous ; it only required that age should ripen them, and 
a wider field be presented for their exercise. For his gallantry in 
this affair, he was honored with the brevet of a Major. The nation 
was unanimous in applauding his heroism ; his name was joined 
with that of the victorious Decatur : and a few sagacious minds, 
looking prophetically into the future, foretold that he would yet do 
deeds to hold a continent in breathless amazement. 

The defence of Fort Harrison was the only opportunity afforded 
TsLjloY of distinguishing himself in the war of 1812; for during the 
remainder of the contest he was confined to the vicinity of the 
Wabash, and thus excluded from the glories of the Niagara cam- 
paign in 1814. When peace was declared, the army was remodelled, 
and Taylor, now eclipsed by later heroes, was reduced to the rank 
of Captain. Thinking himself injured, he resigned his commission, 
and retired to the bosom of his family, where he would probably 
have remained, if his friends had not exerted themselves, and pro- 
cured his restoration to the rank of Major. He now returned to the 
army. For several succeeding years he was chiefly occupied at 



144 ZACHARY TAYLOR, 

frontier posts, where a close and methodical attention to his duties 
did not prevent him from improving in the study of his profession, 
and in belles-lettres literature. Punctual at the drill on the stormiest 
morning, and after it, just as punctual in the library of the fort ; 
sincere in manner ; a lover of humor ; practical and sound in all hiB 
views ; a little reserved, yet on the whole, a most fascinating com- 
panion, Taylor was known in the army, among his intimate friends, 
as a man who would rise to a first rate position if ever a suitable 
occasion offered, and if not, would always win the esteem of those 
around him, by the simplicity, frankness, and genial nature of his 
character. Most of his time was spent at the south, where he pre- 
sided at the erection of Fort Jessup. In 1819, he was made Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel. In 1826, he was a member of the board of officers 
of the army and militia, over which Scott presided, convened to con- 
sider and propose a system for the organization and improvement 
of the militia of the nation. In 1832, he was raised to the rank of 
Colonel. He was now employed in the expedition against Black 
Hawk. It was here, according to a current anecdote, that he cured 
the militia of their scruples in reference to crossing the boun- 
daries of their state ; an example that General Van Ransellaer 
might have imitated to advantage at Queenstown. Taylor had 
been ordered to hasten over Rock River, in pursuit of the fugitive 
savages. The militia demurred, and called a meeting on the prairie, 
when several orators declaimed against the proceeding as unconsti- 
tutional. Taylor quietly listened until all had expressed their senti- 
ments, when he ascended the rostrum, and spoke nearly as follows : 
" Gentlemen, I have listened with pleasure to your remarks on the 
independence and dignity of the American citizen. I acknowledge 
that you are all my equals. Many of you, I believe, will soon be 
my superiors, by becoming members of Congress, and thus arbiters 
of the fortunes of humble servants of the republic, like myself, I 
expect then to obey you as interpreters of the will of the people ; 
and the best proof I can give of this, is, to obey now those who are at 
present in authority. In plain English, gentlemen, 1 have been 
ordered from Washington to follow Black Hawk, and take you with 
me as soldiers. I mean to do both. There are the flat-boats 
drawn up on the shore, and here are my regulars behind you on the 
prairie !" The quiet composure with which he delivered these 
words was sufficient : the men saw he was not to be trifled with ^ 
• and without a murmur, they embarked, the noisiest of the dema- 
gogues being the first to hurry to the boats. Taylor, on the conclusion 
of the Black Hawk war, was appointed to the command of Fort Craw- 



ZACHARY TAYLOR. 145 

ford, at Prairie du Chien. In charge of this post he remained until 
1837, when he was ordered to Florida, where he speedily achieved 
the most decisive victory yet gained over the warHke Seminoles. 

The Florida war was, from first to last, of a very harassing 
character. It was waged under a fatal climate, and in a country 
almost impregnable. A wet and spongy soil, covered with rank 
herbage, and overshadowed by impenetrable thickets of cypress and 
palmetto, formed the first obstacle with which the invaders had to 
contend ;, this conquered, the Americans still had to overcome the 
most resolute savages, perhaps, that ever winged a rifle-ball, or 
lurked for a foe. If beaten, the Seminoles would fly through this 
dense wilderness, by paths known only to themselves, and seek 
refuge in some unexplored everglade. When, after toiling through 
the slimy swamp for days, the invaders would at last reach this new 
retreat, they would be exhausted with fatigue ; while, on the con- 
trary, the Indians would be fresh for the strife. Perhaps the 
Americans would remain ignorant of the position of the enemy until 
a volley from the thicket would prostrate half their number. Some- 
times the savages would fly after a short contest ; sometimes it would 
be necessary to rouse them from their lair by the prick of the 
bayonet ; sometimes, after a heroic struggle, the assailants would be 
compelled themselves to retire, leaving the ground strewn with their 
dead. This war had continued two years, when Taylor arrived in 
Florida. He found the consternation of the whites at its height. 
Notwithstanding the large force of both regulars aiid volunteers, 
which had been employed against the Seminoles ; notwithstanding 
the two first Generals in the army had been in command, the enemy 
not only continued unsubdued, but had even increased in audacity. 
If the soldiers penetrated to the Indian country, surprise and ambush 
cut them ofl*; if they remained at their forts, the savages took 
courage and foraged the white settlements. Large numbers of 
runaway slaves, fugitives from Georgia and Alabama, added to the 
fierceness of the Seminole array, and fostered the spirit of revenge. 
Terrible murders, perpetrated with every device of savage cruelty, 
continually struck terror into the white population. Plantation after 
plantation, was deserted in consequence, until the country began 
to assume the appearance of a desert, and when Taylor arrived, he 
found a general despondency, which infected even the army, and 
rose, among the citizens, almost to despair. 

Jessup, who still held the supreme command, resolved on the 
most vigorous measures in this crisis, and accordingly, he directed 
Taylor to seek the enemy every where, and destroy or capture his 

M N 23 



146 ZACHARY TAYLOR 

forces. With eleven hundred officers and men, Taylor left Fort 
Gardner on the 20th of December, 1837, and began his marcn into 
the interior. The Seminoles, informed of his intentions by spies, 
had retired to one of their strongest fortresses, where they resolved 
to await his approach. On the 25th, Taylor reached their vicinity. 
The savages were posted on the further side of a dense swamp, in a 
/hick hammock, and were so completely hidden from view, that but 
for the assurances of the guides, and the known partiality of the 
Indians for such lurking places, their presence would not have been 
juspected. • Taylor, with that promptness which is one of his cha- 
i'acteristics, immediately ordered the troops forward ; and the men, 
inspired by his calm front, plunged into the thick grass which here 
rose overhead. After proceeding about a quarter of a mile, they 
reached a wide slough, where the water and mud Avas four feet 
deep. This obstacle »wou]d have checked ordinary troops, or an 
ordinary leader. But the men, abandoning their horses, plunged 
resolutely into the lake, carrying their arms overhead, to preserve 
them from the wet. For awhile nothing was heard but the splash 
of water, as the soldiers struggled along ; but suddenly a hundred 
rifles cracked, and the foremost ranks fell among the grass and 
slime. There was a momentary pause, and then the officers spring- 
ing to the front, and shouting to the men, the brave troops charged 
forward. But the progress through the long grass and water was 
necessarily slow, and meantime, the savages, secure in their covert, 
mowed down the assailants. All around was a blaze of fire, yet no 
foe was visible. At last the volunteers who had led the advance, 
and who were now dreadfully thinned in numbers, seeing their 
leader. Colonel Gentry, fall mortally wounded, broke and fled. This 
was the signal for the Indians to burst forth, which they did, firing 
and yelling like demons. The volunteers rushed across the swamp, 
forgetting to form as ordered in the rear of the regulars, and did not 
pause until they reached their baggage and horses, with which they 
remained for the rest of the day. 

The shock now fell on the troops of the line, consisting of the 
fourth and sixth regiments of infantry. These gallant regulars, 
undismayed by the flight of the volunteers, met the victorious foe in 
full career, and pouring in volley after volley, not only checked the 
pursuit, but began to roll back the enemy upon his covert. The 
principal weight of the conflict fell on five companies of the sixth, 
every man of which fought as if the day depended on him alone. 
The slaughter in this little band grew so terrible, that the waters of 
the swamp beneath, and around them, soon became red as blood. 



ZACHARY TAYLOR. 



147 



Their leader, Lieutenant-Colonel Thompson, received a mortal 
wound while cheering his men. His adjutant, and other officers of 
rank, fell beside him. Every inferior officer was soon killed or dis- 
abled ; and in one of the five companies, only four men remained 
unhurt. The dead and dying lay in huge heaps among the grass. 




THE BATTLK OF OKEK-CHOBEB. 



At last, this band of heroes was forced to give way. But their 
place was instantly supplied by others, and the battle now raged 
with awful fury. Far and near the glade echoed with the shouts 
of the combatants, or the rattle of musketry, unless, when the uproar 
lulling for a moment, the groans of the wounded or the dull splash 
of bodies falling in the water, smote the ear. At last the savages 
fled in disorder. But, after retiring a short distance, they rallied, on 
what they thought more favorable ground, and the deadly combat 
was renewed. Again they were charged, again they broke, again 
they rallied, again they fled ; and ever, in the van of his shouting 
heroes, the form of Taylor was seen, a beacon to his troops. The 
hammock was gained, the savages dislodged, and the pursuit con- 
tinued to the borders of Lake Okee-Chobee, in the rear of the 



148 ZACHARY TAYLOR. 

enemy's position. The flank of the foe was now turned by Lieu 
tenant-Colonel Davenport, and a complete rout ensued. The chase- 
was continued until night, when the exhausted troops gave in, and 
silence fell on the wild and romantic glade, which, since noon, had 
reverberated with the roar of battle. This defeat broke the heart 
of the enemy, though he still continued to fight in detached bodies, 
and with sullen desperation long afterwards. The loss of the Ame- 
ricans in the battle of Okee-Chobee, was fourteen officers and one 
hundred and twenty -four men ; that of the savages was never ascer- 
tained, as they carried off most of their dead. For his conduct on 
this memorable day, Taylor received the brevet of a Brigadier, and 
shortly after, on the retirement of Jessup, succeeded to the chief com- 
mand in Florida. 

The official despatch, describing the battle of Okee-Chobee, con- 
cludes with the following passage, descriptive of the sufferings of his 
troops after the victory. The letter from which we make the extract, 
was dated from head-quarters, after his return. Having described 
the actual combat, he continues: " And here I trust I may be per- 
mitted to say, that I experienced one of the most trying scenes of my 
life," and he who could have looked on it with indifference, his nerves 
must have been very differently organized from my own ; besides 
the killed, there lay one hundred and twelve wounded officers and sol- 
diers who had accompanied me one hundred and forty-five miles, most 
of the way through an unexplored wilderness, without guides, who had 
so gallantly beaten the enemy, under my orders, in his strongest posi- 
tion, and who had to be conveyed back through swamps and ham- 
mocks, from whence we set out, without any apparent means of 
doing so. This service, however, was encountered and overcome, 
and they have been conveyed thus far, and proceeded on to Tampa 
Bay, on rude litters, constructed with the axe and knife alone, with 
poles and dry hides — the latter being found in great abundance at 
the encampment of the hostiles. The litters were conveyed on the 
backs of our weak and tottering horses, aided by the residue of the 
command, with more ease and comfort to the sufferers than I could 
have supposed, and with as much as they could have been in ambu- 
lances of the most improved and modern construction.'' 

The consequences of the battle of Okee-Chobee are described by 
Taylor in equally graphic terms. Of the six weeks to which he 
alludes in the following extract, four transpired previous to the conflict, 
iind two subsequent. " In six weeks," he says," we penetrated one 
hundred and fifty miles into the enemy's country, opened roads, and 
'•onstructed bridges and causeways, when necessary, on the greater 



ZACHARY TAYLOR. 149 

portion of the route, established two depots, and the necessary de- 
fences for the same, and finally overtook and beat the enemy in his 
strongest position. , The results of which movement and battle haye 
been the capture of thirty of the hostiles, the coming in, and sur- 
rendering of more than one hundred and fifty Indians and negroes, 
mostly of the former, including the chiefs Ou-la-too-chee, Tus-ta- 
nug-gee, and other principal men, the capturing and driving out of 
the country six hundred head of cattle, upwards of one hundred 
head of horses, besides obtaining a thorough knowledge of the coun 
try through which we operated, a greater portion of which was en- 
tirely unknown, except to the enemy." Taylor remained at the 
head of the army in Florida until 1840, when he was relieved at his 
own request. He was never, however, able to bring the savages to 
a second battle. The recollection of Okee-Chobee, as long as he re- 
tained the supreme command, restrained the foe from hazarding 
aught except desultory engagements, though with the vindictiveness 
of his mixed African and Indian blood, he seized every occasion to 
murder unarmed fugitives, the atrocity of these assassinations in- 
creasing as years rolled on. We gladly turn aside from the often 
repeated story of fathers slaughtered in the midst of their children, 
of infants stabbed at the breast, and of whole households consumed 
in their burning tenements, while the murderers danced and yelled 
around. We leave the story of the Florida war to be narrated in a 
more appropriate place. If the Seminoles had been less of assassins 
they would have been more of heroes. 

The interval that elapsed between his retirement from the army 
of Florida and his elevation to the responsible post of General of the 
army of the Rio Grande, was spent by Taylor chiefly at Forts Jes- 
sup and Gibson, as commandant of the first military department in 
the south-west. His prudence, not less than his skill, recommended 
him in 1845, on the annexation of Texas to the United States, as a 
suitable person to take charge of the force which the President 
resolved to send into the new state. His instructions were to ob- 
serve the Mexicans, and check any hostile demonstrations they 
might make. Accordingly General Taylor, with about two thousand 
men, repaired to Corpus Christi in August of that year, at which 
place he remained until the 8th of March, 1846, when he advanced 
to the Rio Grande. This movement was, on his part, purely a 
military one. The President had directed him to consider the Rio 
Grande as the boundary between Mexico and the United States, 
and to defend it as such : on which Taylor expressed his opinion, 
that the line of the Rio Grande was not possible to be maintamed 



150 ZACHARY TAYLOR. 

by a post at Corpus Christi. In pursuance of these views he broke 
up his encampment, and, on the 28th of March, took a position 
opposite Matamoras. He had already seized Point Isabel on the 
24th, by which he was enabled to command the mouth of the Rio 
Grande. The events that followed, and which led directly to the 
war, have been detailed in another place, and, consequently, we 
fihall not recapitulate them. Throughout the whole of the transac- 
tions that occurred between the 8th of March and the battle of- the 
8th of May, General Taylor displayed the utmost forbearance 
toward the Mexicans, while he yet maintained to its fullest extent, 
the honor and dignity of the United States. Firm, yet prudent ; 
conciliatory, but not cringing ; neither seeking to intimidate, nor 
allowing intimidation, he did all that could be done to avert a war, 
though holding himself ready for it if it should come. When ac- 
cordingly the folly of the Mexicans led them to attack him at Palo 
Alto and Resaca de la Palma, he dealt them such staggering blows, 
and in such quick succession, that they reeled blindly before him, 
and, from, that hour to the end of the war, never recovered their 
confidence. 

The lustre of the battles of the 8th and 9th of May has been 
dimmed in a measure by the brilliancy of subsequent combats. But 
it was in them that the prestige of victory was first obtained for the 
Americans, and the oppressive consciousness of defeat first aflixed 
to the foe. It was Palo Alto that originally established the effi- 
ciency of our light artillery, to wliich we have since been indebted 
for so many successes. It was at Resaca de la Palma that the 
renowned Tampico regiment, which had been victorious on twenty 
fields ; which had never met a foe but to conquer ; and which was, 
therefore, considered the Palladium of the Mexican army, was 
totally destroyed after a struggle whose heroic character was worthy 
of its ancient fame. The splendor of these two victories can only 
be adequately understood by those who remember the excitement 
of the public mind, between the receipt of intelligence of Captain 
Thornton's capture and that of the glorious days of the 8th and 9th 
of May. During that gloomy and oppressive interval of suspense 
but one voice was heard; it was that of lamentation for our army 
supposed to be sacrificed to an overwhelming force. It was known 
that Ta,ylor had scarcely two thousand soldiers : it was believed, 
and the belief was correct, that the Mexicans had ten. The ruin of 
OUT little army was considered inevitable. Men did not hesitate to 
reproach the President for thus wantonly throwing away the lives 
of brave men. The sympathies of the nation were enlisted for Tay- 



ZACHART TAYLOR. 151 

lor. The arrival of the mail was watched with intense anxiety. 
The suspense was protracted from day to day, by the most exciting, 
but uncertain intelhgence : it was told that Taylor's communication 
had been cut off; that he had marched to Point Isabel ; that the 
garrison left opposite Matamoras had been bombarded. The anguish 
of the public mind rose to an intolerable pitch. But suddenly came 
intelligence of the victory of Palp Alto, and following close on its 
heels, the news of Resaca de la Palma. The nation passed at once 
from despondency to joy. The bulletins of the conquering General 
were read again and again, for at first they could scarcely be cre- 
dited. When the conviction, at last, became fixed that Taylor had 
indeed repulsed the hosts of Arista, and that the Mexican army, 
collected with such care, was reduced to a crowd of disorderly 
fugitives, a delirium of exultation took possession of the public mind. 
It was not only over a mere victory that the people rejoiced : it was 
over a gallant leader saved from sacrifice ; it was over an army 
preserved from massacre. The government immediately sent him 
the brevet of Major-General ; and, shortly after, on the passage of 
the act increasing the army, a full commission. Taylor at once 
rose to the proud eminence of a hero, and was assigned the first 
place in the people's hearts. By exalting his genius they vindica- 
^ted their own alarm. 

The occupation of Matamoras followed, and the advance on 
Monterey. During the whole of these transactions Taylor labored 
under great disadvantages. The government of the United States 
furnished him troops without adequate supplies, thus rendering 
nugatory with one hand what they tendered with the other. But 
the patience, tact, and skill of the General triumphed over all diffi- 
culties. Ordered to penetrate into the interior, he advanced to 
Monterey, the siege of which, a walled town, he began with a single 
mortar. Monterey fell after a most desperate contest : no struggle 
so fierce had, up to that period, ever been known on this continent. 
The armistice that followed was a wise and necessary measure, 
notwithstanding the exceptions urged against it at the time. Tayloi 
had just received orders to terminate this armistice, and was fortu- 
nately at last in a condition to move forward, when he was una- 
voidably stripped of the flower of his forces by Scott, then on his 
way to Vera Cruz. Nothing illustrates the equable character of the 
General better than the familiar anecdote told of him on this occasion. 
The despatch, calling on him to surrender Worth's division, was 
received by Taylor when at supper : he read it, his brow clouded, 
but he did not utter a word : the only way in which his chagrin was 



152 ZACHART TAYLOR. 

betrayed was by his excessive nervousness, displayed in peppering 
tiis coffee, and in similar mistakes during the meal. The circum- 
stances which led subsequently to the battle of Buena Vista have 
Deen detailed, at sufficient length, in preceding pages. That 
remarkable battle had its origin as much in Taylor's foresight, as 
the victory which crowned it owed its existence to his indomitable 
courage. To illustrate Taylor's clear and transparent style, as well 
as to present the story of that day in the most authoritative shape, 
we quote the chief portion of his despatch relative to this victory. 
The narrative begins with the preliminary reconnoisance. 

" The information which reached me of the advance and concen- 
tration of a heavy Mexican force in my front, had assumed such a 
probable form as to induce a special examination far beyond the 
reach of our pickets to ascertain its correctness. A small party of 
Texan spies, under Major McCullough, despatched to the hacienda 
of Encarnacion, thirty miles from this, on the route to San Luis 
Potosi, had reported a cavalry force of unknown strength at that 
place. On the 20th of February, a strong reconnoisance, under 
Lieutenant-Colonel May, was despatched to the hacienda of Hecli- 
ondo, while Major McCallough made another examination of 
Encarnacion. The result of these expeditions left no doubt that the 
enemy was in large force at Encarnacion, under the orders of General^ 
Santa Anna, and that he meditated a forward movement and attack 
upon our position. 

" As the camp of Agua Nueva could be turned on either flank, 
and as the enemy's force was greatly superior to our own, particu- 
larly in the arm of cavalry, I determmed, after much consideration, 
to take up a position about eleven miles in rear, and there await the 
attack. The army broke up its camp and marched at noon on the 
21st, encamping at the new position a little in front of the hacienda 
of Buena Vista. With a small force I proceeded to Saltillo, to make 
some necessary arrangements for the defence of the town, leaving 
Brigadier-General Wool in the immediate command of the troops. 

"Before these arrangements were completed, on the morning of 
the 22d, I was advised that the enemy was in sight, advancing. 
Upon reaching the ground it was found that his cavalry advance 
was in our front, having marched from Encarnacion, as we have 
siince learned, at eleven o'clock the day previous, and driving in a 
mounted force left at Agua Nueva to cover the removal of public 
stores. Our troops were in position, occupying a line of remarkable 
fetrength The road at this point becomes a narrow defile, the valley 
on its right being rendered quite impracticable for artillery by a 



ZACHARY TAYLOR. 



153 



succession of deep and impassable gullies, while on the left a suc- 
cession of rugged ridges and precipitous ravines extends far back to- 
wards the mountain which bounds the Vcillev. 7^'> features of the 




MAJOR m'CULLOUGH. 



ground were such as nearly to paralyze the artillery and cavalry of 
the enemy, while his infantry could not derivg all the advantage of 
its numerical superiority. In this position we prepared to receive 
him. Captain Washington's battery (fourth artillery) was posted 
to command the road, while the first and second Illinois regiments, 
under Colonels Hardin and Bissell, each eight companies, (to the 
latter of which was attached Captain Conner's company of Texas 
volunteers,) and the second Kentucky, under Colonel McKee, occu- 
pied the crests of the ridges on the left and in rear. The Arkansas 



154 Z AC HART TAYLOR. 

and Kentucky regiments of cavalry, commanded by Colonels Yell 
and H. Marshall, occupied the extreme left near the base of th« 
mountain, while the Indiana brigade, under Brigadier-General Lane, 
(composed of the second and third regiments, under Colonels 
Bowles and Lane,) the Mississippi riflemen, under Colonel Davis, 
the squadrons of the first and second dragoons, under Captain 
Steene and Lieutenant-Colonel May, and the light batteries of 
Captains Sherman and Bragg, third artillery, were held in reserve. 
" At eleven o'clock I received from General Santa Anna a sum- 
mons to surrender at discretion, which, with a copy of my reply, I 
have already transmitted. The enemy still forebore his attack, evi- 
dently waiting for the arrival of his rear columns, which could be 
distinctly s^en by our look-outs as they approached the field. A 
demonstration made on his left caused me to detach the second Ken- 
tucky regiment and a section of artillery, to our right, in which position 
they bivouacked for the night. In the mean time, the Mexican light 
troops had engaged ours on the extreme left, (composed of parts of 
the Kentucky and Arkansas cavalry, dismounted, and a rifle 
battalion from the Indiana brigade under Major Gorman, the whole 
commanded by Colonel Marshall,) and kept up a sharp fire, climb- 
ing the mountain side, and apparently endeavoring to gain our 
^ank. Three pieces of Captain Washington's battery had been de- 
ached to the left, and were supported by the second Indiana regiment." 
An occasional shell was thrown by the enemy into this part of our 
iine, but without effect. The skirmishing of the light troops was 
Kept up with trifling loss, on our part, until dark, when I became 
convinced that no serions attack would be made before the morning, 
and returned, with the Mississippi regiment and squadron of second 
dragoons, to Saltillo. The troops bivouacked without fires, and laid 
upon their arms. A body of cavalry, some fifteen hundred strong, 
had been visible all day in rear of the town, having entered the 
valley through a narrow pass, east of the city. This cavalry, com- 
manded by General Minon, had evidently been thrown in our rear, 
to break up and harass our retreat, and perhaps make some attempt 
against the town, if practicable. The city was occupied by four 
excellent companies lof Illinois volunteers, under Major Warren, 
of the first regiment. A field-work, which commanded most of the 
approaches, was garrisoned by Captain Webster's company, first 
artillery, and 'armed with two twenty -four pound howitzers, while 
the train and head-quarter camp was guarded by two companies of 
Mississippi riflemen, under Captain Rogers, and a field-piece, com- 
manded by Captain Shover, third artillery. Having made these 



ZACHARY TAYLOR. 155 

dispositions for the protection of the rear, I proceeded on the morn- 
ing of the 23d, to Buena Vista, ordering forward all the other avail- 
able troops. The action had commenced before my arrival on the 
field. 

" During the evening and night of the 22d, the enemy had thrown 
ft body of light troops on the mountain side, with the purpose of 
outflanking our left; and it was here that the action of the 23d com- 
menced, at an early hour. Our riflemen, under Colonel Marshall, 
who had been reinforced by three companies under Major Trail, 
second Illinois volunteers, maintained their ground handsomely 
against a greatly superior force, holding themselves under cover, and 
using their weapons with deadly eff'ect. About eight o'clock, a 
strong demonstration was made against the centre of our position, a 
heavy column moving along the road. This force was soon dis- 
persed by a few rapid and well-directed shots from Captain Wash 
ington's battery. In the mean time, the enemy was concentrating 
a large force of infantry and cavalry under cover of the ridges, with 
the obvious intention of forcing our left, which was posted on an 
extensive plateau. The second Indiana, and the second Illinois 
regiments formed this part of our line, the former covering three 
pieces of light artillery, under the orders of Captain O'Brien— Briga- 
dier-General Lane being in the immediate command. In order to 
bring his men within efl'ective range, General Lane ordered the ar- 
tillery and second Indiana regiment forward. The artillery ad- 
vanced within musket range of a heavy body of Mexican infantry, 
and was served against it with great eflect, but without being able 
to check its advance. The infantry ordered to its support had fallen 
back in disorder, being exposed, as well as the battery, not only to a 
severe fire of small-arms from the front, but also to a murderous 
cross-fire of grape and canister, from a Mexican battery on the 
left. Captain O'Brien found it impossible to retain his position 
without support, but was only able to withdraw two of his pieces, 
all the horses and cannoniers of the third piece being killed or 
disabled. The second Indiana regiment, which had fallen back as 
stated, could not be rallied, and took no farther part in the action, 
except a handful of men, who, under its gallant Colonel Bowles, 
joined the Mississippi regiment, and did good service, and those 
fugitives, who, at a later period in the day, assisted in defending the 
train an-^ depot at Buena Vista. This portion of our line having 
given way, and the enemy appearing in overwhelming force against 
our left flank, the light troops which had rendered such good service 
on the mountain were compelled to withdraw, which they did, foj 



156 2ACHARY TAYLOR. 

the most part, in good order. Many, however, were not rallied 
until they reached the depot at Buena Vista, to the defence of 
which they afterwards contributed. 

"Colonel Bissell's regiment, (second Illinois,) which had been 
joined by a section of Captain Sherman's battery, had become Qom 
pletely outflanked, and was compelled to fail back, being entirely 
unsupported. The enemy was now pouring masses of infantry and 
cavalry along the base of the mountain on our left, and was gaining' 
our rear in great force. At this moment I arrived upon the field. 
The Mississippi regiment had been directed to the left before reach- 
ing the position, and immediately came into action against the Mexi- 
can infantry which had turned our flank. The second Kentucky 
regiment, and a section of artillery, under Captain Bragg, had pre- 
viously been ordered from the right to reinforce our left, and arrived 
at a most opportune moment. That regiment, and a portion of the 
first Illinois, under Colonel Hardin, gallantly drove the enemy, and 
recovered a portion of the ground we had lost. The batteries of 
Captains Sherman and Bragg, were in position on the plateau, and 
did much execution, not only in front, but particularly upon the 
masses, which had gained our rear. Discovering that the enemy 
was heavily pressing upon the Mississippi regiment, the third Indi- 
ana regiment under Colonel Lane, was despatched to strengthen that 
part of our line which formed a crotchet perpendicular to the first 
line of battle. At the same time Lieutenant Kilburn, with a piece 
of Captain Bragg's battery, was directed to support the infantry 
there engaged. The action was for a long time warmly sustained 
at that point — -the enemy making several efi*orts both with infantry 
and cavalry, against our line, and being always repulsed with heavy 
loss. I had placed all the regular cavalry, and Captain Pike's 
squadron of Arkansas horse under the orders of Brevet Lieutenant- 
Colonel May, with directions to hold in check the enemy's column, 
still advancing to the rear along the base of the mountain, which 
was done in conjunction with the Kentucky and Arkansas cavalry^ 
under Colonels Marshall and Yell. 

" In the mean time, our left, which was still strongly threatened by a 
superior force, was farther strengthened by the detachment of Cap- 
tain Braggs, and a portion of Captain Sherman's batteries to that 
quarter. The concentration of artillery-fire upon the masses of the 
enemy along the base of the mountain, and the determined resistance 
offered by the two regiments opposed to them, had created confu- 
sion in their ranks, and some of the corps attempted to effect a 
retreat upon their main line of battle. The squadron of the first 



ZACHARY TaTLOk. 157 

dragoons, under Lieutenant Rucker, was now ordered up the deep 
* ravine which these retreating corps were endeavoring to cross, iu 
order to charge and disperse them. The squadron proceeded to the 
point indicated, but could not accompUsh the object, being exposed 
to a heavy fire from a battery estabhshed to cover the retreat of those 
corps. While the squadron was detached on this service, a large 
body of the enemy was observed to concentrate on our extreme left, 
apparently with the view of making a descent upon the hacienda of 
Buena Vista, where our train and baggage were deposited. Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Ma}^ was ordered to the support of that point, with 
two pieces of Captain Sherman's battery under Lieutenant Reynolds. 
In the mean time, the scattered forces near the hacienda, composed 
in pan of Majors Trail and Gorman's commands, had been, to some 
extent, -ganized under the advice of Major Munroe, chief of artil*- 
lery, witii the assistance of Major Morrison, volunteer staff, and 
were posted to defend the position. Before our cavalry had reached 
the hacienda, that of the enemy had made its attack ; having been 
handsomely met by the Kentucky and Arkansas cavalry under 
Colonels Marshall and Yell. The Mexican column immediately 
divided, one portion sweeping by the depot, where it received a 
destructive fire from the force which had collected there, and then 
gaining the mountain opposite, under a fire from Lieutenant Rey- 
nolds' section, the remaining portion regaining the base of the moun- 
tain on our left. In the charge at Buena Vista, Colonel Yell fell 
gallantly at the head of his regiment ; we also lost Adjutant Vaughan, 
of the Kentucky cavalry — ayoungofficer of much promise. Lieutenant- 
Colonel May, who had been rejoined by the squadron of the first dra- 
goons and by portionsof the Arkansas and Indianatroops, under Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Roane and Major Gorman, now approached the base of 
the mountain, holding in check the right flank of the enemy, upon 
whose masses, crowded in the narrow gorges and ravines, our artil- 
lery was doing fearful execution. 

" The position of that portion of the Mexican army which had 
gained our rear was now very critical, and it seemed doubtful 
whether it could regain the main body. At this moment I received 
from General Santa Anna a message by a staff officer, desiring to 
know what I wanted. I immediately despatched Brigadier-General 
Wool to the Mexican General-in-chief, and sent orders to cease 
firing Upon reaching the Mexican hues. General Wool could not 
cause the enemy to cease their fire, and accordingly returned with- 
out having an interview. The extreme right of the enemy con- 
tinued its retreat along the base of the mountain, and finally, in spite 

M — 



158 ZACHARY TAYLOR. 

of all our efforts, effected a junction with the remainder of the army. 

" During the day the cavalry of General Minon had ascended the* 
elevated plain above Saltillo, and occupied the road from the city to 
the field of battle, where they intercepted several of our men. Ap- 
proacning the town, they were fired upon by Captain Webster, from 
the redoubt occupied by his company, and then moved off towards 
the eastern side of the valley, and obliquely towards Buena Vista. 
At this time, Captain Shover moved rapidly forward with his piece, 
supported by a miscellaneous command of mounted volunteers, and 
fired several shots at the cavalry with great effect. They were 
driven into the ravines which lead to the lower valley, closely pur- 
sued by Captain Shover, who was farther supported by a piece of 
Captain Webster's battery, under Lieutenant Donaldson, which had 
advanced from the redoubt, supported by Captain Wheeler's com- 
pany of lUinois volunteers. The enemy made one or two efforts to 
charge the artillery, but was finally driven back in a confused mass, 
and did not again appear upon the plain. 

" In the mean time, the firing had partially ceased upon the prin- 
cipal field. The enemy seemed to confine his efforts to the protec 
tion of his artillery, and I had left the plateau for a moment, when 1 
was recalled thither by a very heavy musketry fire. On regaining 
that position, I discovered that our infantry (Illinois and second 

Kentucky) had engaged a greatly superior force of the enemy 

^videntl]^ his reserve — and that they had been overwhelmed by 
numbers. The moment was most critical. Captain O'Brien, with 
two pieces, had sustained this heavy charge to the last, and was 
finally obliged to leave his guns on the field — his infantry support 
being entirely routed. Captain Bragg, who had just arrived from 
the left, was ordered at once into battery. Without any infantry to 
support him, and at the imminent risk of losing his guns, this officer 
came rapidly into action, the Mexican line being but a few yards 
from the muzzle of his pieces. The first discharge of canister caused 
the enemy to hesitate ; the second and third drove him back in disorder, 
and saved the day. The second Kentucky regiment, which had ad- 
vanced beyond supporting distance in this affair, was driven back 
and closely pressed by the enemy's cavalry. Taking a ravine which 
led in the direction of Captain Washington's battery, their pursuers 
became exposed to his fire, which soon checked and drove them 
back with loss. In the mean time, the rest of our artillery had taken 
position on the plateau, covered by the Mississippi and third Indi- 
ana regiments, the former of which had reached the ground in time 
to pour a fire into the right flank of the enemy, and thus contribute 



ZACHART TAYLOR 159 

to his repulse. In this last conflict we had the misfortune to sustain 
'a very heavy loss. Colonel Hardin, first Illinois, and Colonel 
McKee and Lieutenant-Colonel Clay, second Kentucky regiment 
fell at this time, while gallantly leading their commands. 

" No farther attempt was made by the enemy to force our position, 
and the approach of night gave an opportunity to pay proper atten- 
tion to the wounded, and also to refresh the soldiers, who had been 
exhausted by incessant watchfulness and combat. Though the night 
was severely cold, the troops were compelled for the most to bivouac 
without fires, expecting that morning would renew the conflict. 
During the night the wounded were removed to Saltillo, and every 
preparation made to receive the enemy, should he again attack our 
position. Seven fresh companies were drawn from the town, and 
Brigadier-General Marshall, with a reinforcement of Kentucky 
cavalry and- four heavy guns, under Captain Prentiss, first artillery, 
was near at hand, when it was discovered that the en^my had 
abandoned his position during the night. Our scouts soon ascertained 
that he had fallen back upon Agua Nueva. The great disparity of 
numbers, and the exhaustion of our troops, rendered it inexpedient 
and hazardous to attempt pursuit. A stafl" oflicer was despatched to 
General Santa Anna, to negotiate an exchange of prisoners, which 
was satisfactorily completed on the following day. Our own dead 
were collected and buried, and the Mexican wounded, of which a 
large number had been left upon the field, were removed to Saltillo, 
and rendered as comfortable as circumstances would permit." 

Such was the great battle of Buena Vista. Taken all in all it was, 
perhaps, the most glorious ever fought by an American army. It 
furnished the climax to Taylor's renown. At Resaca de la Palma 
he had defeated the enemy in the open field. At Monterey he had 
stormed an almost impregnable walled town, and carried it, after a 
bloody conflict of three days. On both these occasions the regulars 
had been considered the operative causes of the victory. But at 
Buena Vista he was not only pitted against far greater odds than 
he had ever before had to contend against, but his army, with the 
paltry exception of five hundred, was composed entirely of volun- 
teers, many of whom had never se^n an enemy. To win a victory 
under such circumstances appeared little short of miraculous. In 
the United States, the same alarm for this gallant soldier which had 
preceded the battles of the 8th and 9th of May was again expe- 
rienced ; and the intelligence of the victory was hailed with a 
like delirious enthusiasm and joy. In Europe, wonder and admi- 
ration possessed all men ; the name of Taylor was coupled with that 
of the most renowned commanders : the highest Generals followed 



160 ZACHARY TATLOft. 

his career on the map from the Rio Grande to Buena Vista , and 
kings despatched emissaries across the Atlantic to unriddle the 
mystery by which raw soldiers could be made to repulse five times 
their own number of regulars. Subsequent victories have, in their 
immediate results, rivalled, perhaps exceeded that of the 23rd of 
February, 1847 ; but none have approached its remote consequences, 
for it was the parent of them all. Had the army which Taylor 
defeated at Buena Vista, been added to that which Scott subsequently 
repulsed at Cerro Gordo, it would have been impossible even for the 
hero of Lundy's Lane, vast as is his genius, to have cut his way to 
Mexico, unless with a column of twenty thousand men. It was on 
the torrent of victory which Taylor let loose, that the flag of 
America was borne onward to the capital of Mexico. 

The subsequent career of Taylor in Mexico was comparatively 
destitute of interest. The destruction of Santa Anna's army left the 
country bttween Saltillo and the Rio Grande in undisputed posses- 
sion of the Americans, so that no work remained for Taylor's army 
except the suppression occasionally of a guerilla force, or the 
convoying a train. In the autumi!- of 1847, Taylor resigned his 
command into the hands of General Wool, and returned to the 
United States on leave of absence for six months. His reception at 
New Orleans was enthusiastic in the extreme. Various invitations 
were extended to him from legislatures and other bodies to visit 
their localities, but he modestly declined all such ostentatious visits, 
and during his presence in the United States lived retired with his 
family. 

Taylor is affable, though somewhat taciturn. He is fond of humor ; 
has a benevolent heart ; and possesses a rare faculty of attaching 
strangers to him. In the army he is idolized by the soldiers, both 
regulars and volunteers. He is lenient even to great offences, as in 
the case of the captured deserters, whom, instead of hanging, he 
ordered to be driven from the camp with every mark of obloquy. 
Wise and prudent to both officers and men,, he has scarcely an 
enemy, and no open rival. All who have served under him, while 
they know he is not unduly exacting, know also that, when once 
aroused, his determination becomes terrible. 

In person Taylor is of medium height, broad-set, and unusually 
short-limbed. His face is expressive of great resolution and energy. 
In November 1848, Taylor was elected President of the United 
States, receiving 163 electoral votes out of 290 ; and was inaugurated 
on the 5th of March following. He died at Washington, on the 9th of 
July, 1850. 




SAMUEL RINGGOLD 



HE first martyr of the 
Mexican war was Major 
Samuel Ringgold, who 
fell at Palo Alto, on the 
8th of May, 1846. In his 
death on that glorious 
field there seemed a pecu- 
liar fitness, the victory 
being won principally by 
the light artillery, a branch 
of the service of which he 
was almost the parent. 
Ringgold was born at Front Park, near Hagerstown, Md., in the 
near 1800, and was the oldest son of General Samuel Ringgold, 

24 16X 




162 SAMUEL RINGGOLD. 

formerly a United States Senator. His mother was a daughter of 
General John Cadwalader, of Philadelphia, who devoted his sword 
and fortune to his country in the darkest hours of 1776. The child, 
ihus inheriting on both sides the blood of patriots, was early des- 
>ined for the pursuit of arms. At the age of fourteen he entered the 
Military Academy at West Point, where he graduated in 1818, at 
the head of his class. He was now commissioned as Second-Lieu- 
tenant of artillery, and in 1822 advanced to a First-Lieutenancy. In 
this capacity he served for several years, at Fort Moultrie, S. C. In 
1834, he received the brevet of Captain, dating from May 8th, 1832. 
In 1836 he was raised to the rank of full Captain, with the command 
of a company in the third artillery. In the Florida war, his health, 
naturally delicate, became considerably impaired. To restore it, he 
visited Europe, and here, ever anxious to perfect himself in his pro- 
fession, he studied for awhile at the Polytechnique in Paris, and at 
the Military Institution in Woolwich, England. His company having 
been disbanded in 1838, Ringgold, on his return to the United States, 
was ordered to organize a company of light artillery. 

The light artillery was, at that time, a novelty in the service. 
Strictly speaking, it does not even yet exist as a distinct corps ; but 
each regiment of heavy artillery has one company, furnished with 
lighter pieces and equipped with horses. The bill, authorising the 
equipment of four companies of light artillery, was first passed in 
1816, but was not acted upon until Mr. Poinsett became Secretary 
of War, when Ringgold, as we have seen, was selected to organize 
the corps. He established himself at Carlisle, Pennsylvania, where, 
by constant practice, he brought both horses and men to such a 
state of perfection, that, when drilling they seemed to move by voli- 
tion alone. The soldiers would advance at full gallop with their 
battery, unlimber, fire, re-mount, and whirl off* to another position, 
where the same process would take place, and this with such rapid- 
ity that the eye could scarcely follow their movements. A memory 
of a cloud of dust, of the ringing report of guns, of the thunder of the 
carriages and horses over the hard plain, would frequently be the 
only distinct images which a spectator carried away from these ex- 
hibitions. The whole scene appeared like some wild and inexpli- 
cable phantasmagoria. On one occasion we beheld this corps drilling. 
The scene was two hills, nearly half a mile apart, with a gently sloping 
vale between. Now the batteries could be discerned on the brow 
of the furthest hill, half concealed in the white vapor that floated 
back after the explosion ; now they would be seen, for an instant's 
transit, smoking through the valley; then they were visible swinging 



SAMUEL RINGGOLD. 163 

around and unlimbering on the neighboring crest; and next, after an- 
other stunning explosion, and before we could recover sight of the 
guns, the whole corps would go thundering back to its first position, 
a confused mass of horsemen, caissons, and artillery vanishing 
thiough clouds of dust, and amid a shaking of the ground, as if an 
earth(iuake was passing. 

While occupied at Carlisle, Ringgold received the brevet of Major, 
for his services in the Florida war. When Texas was annexed to 
the United States, Ringgold was ordered to join the army of obser- 
vation. He immediately repaired to Corpus Christi, and subsequent- 
ly accompanied Taylor to the Rio Grande. In the battle of Palo 
Alto the practical efficiency of his corps was first tested and estab- 
lished : without exaggeration, it may be said that the light artillery 
on that occasion, won the day ! The engagement was begun, on the 
side of the Americans, by Lieutenant Churchill, with two eighteen- 
pounders. Ringgold, being ordered into action, galloped past 
Churchill, and taking up a position within seven hundred yards of 
the enemy, opened with terrible effect on the masses of Arista. The 
precision and rapidity of his fire astonished friend and foe alike 
Whole companies went down before his batteries, and when, next 
day, the Americans traversed the position of the enemy, the course 
of Ringgold's shot could be detected by. the lanes of dead. After 
the battle had raged for some time, an immense body of Mexican 
lancers was seen advancing at full speed, to charge the American 
right; Lieutenant Ridgely, with a detachment of Ringgold's artil- 
lery, assisted by the filth infantry, and by Walker's volunteers, was 
ordered. to repel its assault. This left Ringgold himself with but 
two guns. Undismayed, however, he seized every opportunity to 
push forward, and, by successive advances at last placed his little 
battery within a hundred yards of the foe. At this distance he 
maintained a murderous fire, frequently pointing the guns himself, 
and often at particular individuals, whom he always hit. The scene 
approached the sublime. The grass was on fire all around, and the 
smoke that rose in thick volumes at times entirely concealed the 
Mexicans. Occasionally a puff of wind would blow aside the cur- 
tain of battle, and then the enemy was visible, almost within pistol- 
shot, his whole front a blaze of fire. The rushing of the round shot 
through the grass, the ratthng of musketry, the roar of the conflag- 
ration, and the other confused noises of the combat, produced a scene 
of maddening excitement. For the most part the infantry remained 
inactive spectators of the combat, yet cheering continually at the 
terrible havoc of Ringgold's battery. 



164 



SAMUEL RINGGOLD. 



Suddenly, while all eyes were turned on the hero of the fight, he 
was observed to fall, with his hoijse, to the ground. The artillerists 
who were nearest rushed to his side. A cannon-shot had passed 
through both his thighs, and through the shoulders of his horse. He 
lay extended on the prairie, his dying steed partially upon him 




*.;^S:-^=««»-^^^-^^^-^>r-'-*^^-..S>.- 



FALL OF MAJOR RINGGOLD. 



Lieutenant Sherer offered to raise him. " No," said the fainting 
hero, " let me stay — go on — you have enough to do." Dr. Byrne, 
however, hurried up, and had him carried from the field ; but his 
wounds were seen, at once, to be mortal. Though no bones were 
broken, nor any important artery divided, nearly all the anterior 
muscles had been torn from each thigh. He lingered until the 10th, 
when he died at Point I'sabel. He suffered little or no pain, and con- 
versed cheerfully on the- incidents of the battle up to the hour of his 
decease. His remains were interred, first, at the Point, but subse- 
quently at Baltimore, in his native state. 

Thus perished, at the age of forty-six, the Bayard of the American 
army. Accomplished as a gentleman ;: affable as a man ; thoroughly 
educated as a soldier, he left few rivals,.and no superiors behind him. 
He was the first graduate of West Point who perished in battle in 
the Mexican war ; and he died in a conflict the glory of which be- 
longed entirely to the regular army. The popular mind will always 
consider him 9s the hero of Palo Alto. 




CHARLES MAY. 



S RINGGOLD may be considered, in 
one sense, the hero of Palo Alto, so May, 
following the same rule, is to be regarded 
as that of Resaca de la Pahna. Unlike 
most inferior officers, who wait in vain for 
an opportunity to distinguish themselves 
above the crowd. May had presented to him 
one of those chances, which, rightly im- 
proved, render a man famous. He seized 
the happy moment, and by his dashing charge on ihe Mexican bat- 
tery, linked his name indissolubly with the victory of the 9th of May 
This young officer is the son of Dr. May, of Washington, D. C, 
and was born, we are informed, in the year 1812. He was educated 
for civil pursuits, but during the administration of Jackson, sought 

165 




166 CHARLES MAY. 

and obtained a commission in the dragoons, an arm of the service 
then lately re-organized. There is a current anecdote, which ia 
generally considered authentic, that May obtained his Lieutenancy 
by a personal application to the President, in which his tall and sol- 
dierly person, his frank address, and his splendid horsemanship, 
secured the desired commission. He was appointed to the second 
dragoons, and immediately departed for Florida. He served through 
the Seminole war in a manner to win the highest encomiums of his 
superiors ; but found no opportunity for especial distinction, except 
in the capture of the Indian chief Philip. But a more- glorious field 
awaited him. 

It is somewhat singular that the two first victories of the Mexican 
war should have been gained principally by the light artillery and 
dragoons, both of which were comparatively new branches of the 
service. In the sketch of Ringgold, we have traced the rise of the 
light artillery. The permanent introduction of dragoons into the 
American army, dates no further back than the Black Hawk war. 
Cavalry had proved of the greatest service in the War of Indepen- 
dence, and a species of dragoons had been maintained by the United 
States until 1816. But in that year the last troop was disbanded. 
During the progress of the Black Hawk war, however, it became 
obvious that a small force of dragoons would be invaluable for pur- 
suing the enem}^ Accordingly, Congress passed an act for the 
equipment of a corps of mounted rangers to serve during the war 
The success of this new species of force so far exceeded the most 
sanguine expectations, that, when the term of service of the rangers 
expired, a permanent regiment of dragoons was organized. In 1836, 
a second regiment was ordered to be raised ; and it was in this that 
May received a commission. In 1839, he was made First-Lieuten- 
ant, and in 1841, a Captain. 

May joined Taylor while at Corpus Christi, but found no oppor- 
tunity to be useful until after the march from Fort Brown to Point 
Isabel. When, however, on the morning after Taylor arrived at the 
latter place, the sound of heavy cannon in the direction of Matamo- 
ras, announced the attack on Fort Brown, May was sent out, with 
one hundred dragoons, to open a communication with the garrison. 
He left the point about 2, P. M., and proceeded to some distance, 
when he thought it advisable to halt until night. At dusk he again 
advanced, until about 9, P. M.,. when the Mexican fires were 
observed in the distance, and a reconnoisance betrayed their whole 
army stretched asleep on the plain. Passing round their front in 
silence, Mav succeeded in gaining a chapparal hedge near the fort 



CHARLES MAY. 167 

He now despatched Captain Walker, who had vohinteered for this 
purpose, to open a communication with the garrison. May waited 
until nearly morning for the return of Walker, when, concluding that 
the adventurous ranger had been captured, he started to return to 
the point. About sunrise he passed within half a mile of the Mexi- 
can army without molestation. Soon after he met a body of lancers, 
over one hundred strong, these he charged and scattered, but owing 
to the exhausted condition of his horses, the enemy finally escaped. 
At 9, A. M., on the morning of the 4th, May reached Point Isabel. 
Captain Walker returned that night, having evaded the Mexican 
patroles. He brought the intelligence so earnestly desired of the 
ability of the fort and garrison to hold out. 

At the battle of Palo Alto, the dragoons of May were compelled 
to remain inactive. But this was atoned for on the succeeding day. 
The conflict at Resaca de la Palma had raged about three quar- 
ters of an hour, with great fury, when Taylor perceived that a bat- 
tery in front, forming the key to the Mexican position, was the chief 
obstacle to victory. He immediately ordered up May's dragoons, 
which had been hitherto posted in the rear, where the men, chafing 
at the inaction to which they were condemned, indulged in audible 
murmurs. The signal to advance was accordingly received with 
exultation ; every rein was tightened, and with clattering hoofs and 
jingling sabres, the troop swept to the front. They approached 
Taylor at a round trot, their gallant leader at their head. Reining 
up in front of the General, May inquired, with a look, what was 
desired of him. " Captain May,'' said Taylor, pointing with his 
sword, down the ravine, " you had no chance yesterday, but I offer 
you one to-day: — do you see that battery ? — you must charge and 
take it !" May turned instantly to his men. '' We are ordered to 
take that battery," he said, *' follow me !" As he spoke, he spurred 
his steed, and the dragoons, following with a hurrah, the whole 
corps went thundering down the road. 

When within about one hundred yards of the foe, May reached a 
turn in the highway, where Ridgely's battery was posted. The 
fiery young officer checked himself for a moment, and asked his 
friend where the enemy were, for the smoke was so thick that the 
Mexicans were concealed from view. Ridgely pointed out their po- 
sition, but desired May to wait while he drew their fire. This was 
done, and then May dashed forward, Lieutenant Inge following • 
close after, and the men pressing behind in columns of four. It was 
scarcely a minute before he reached the ravine. Mounted on his 
powerful charger, his tall form conspicious above all others, and his long 
hair streaming in the wind, he presented a spectacle, that, for a 



168 CHARLES MAY. 

second, appalled the Mexicans. But speedily recovering themselves 
they poured in a fatal fire. One third of May's command was cut 
off by the dispharge. Lieutenant Inge fell dead beside May. But 
the survivors, with a wild hurrah, cleared the ravine, charged 
through the battery of seven field pieces, and driving the panic- 
struck Mexicans before them, did not check their career until they 
had gained a rising ground behind the foe. Here May attempted to 
rally his men, but could only find six of them. Observing. the enemy 
returning to the guns, he wheeled, and retracing his track, discovered 
General La Vega about to discharge one of the pieces. May aimed 
a blow at this officer, to cut him down, when he surrendered, a pri- 
soner of war. The American infantry now came running up, ac- 
companied by Ridgely's artillery, at full gallop, and, after a short, 
but decisive struggle, the enemy broke and fled in confusion. " After 
the unsurpassed, if not unequalled charge of Captain May's squad- 
ron," says General Twiggs, in speaking of this battle, "the enemy 
was unable to fire a gun." The Commander-in-chief also referred 
to the charge in terms of the highest praise. At once, May became 
famous ; for the exploit reminded the popular mind of the knightly 
deeds of old. The President conferred on May two brevets : that of 
Major, for Palo Alto, and that of Lieutenant-Colonel, for Resaca de 
la Palma. 

May continued with the army of Taylor until after the battle of 
Buena Vista. He was consequently at Monterey, and also in the 
terrible action of the 23d of February. At Monterey there was no op- 
portunity for the dragoons to achieve any thing brilliant. At Buena 
Vista he led the detachment that defeated the attack on the camp ; 
.and he also contributed essentially to the repulse of the Mexican 
columns on the American left. Indeed, during the whole campaign 
May was of the greatest service to the Commander-in-chief. He 
suff'ered but one disaster during all this period, which was the sur- 
prise of a portion of his command in a mountain pass, by which he 
lost several men. Generall)^, his activity, caution, and experience, 
were of the most signal benefit to the army. 

Not long after the battle of Buena Vista, May perceiving the war 
over on the Rio Grande, returned to the United States on leave of 
absence. 




OENElAIi BOTLEB WOTTNDED AT MONTEREY. 



WILLIAM O. BUTLER. 




F the many heroes at Monterey, 
Major-General Butler deserves par- 
ticular notice, both from his high 
rank and the wound he received in 
that struggle. On the first, and most 
murderous day of the siege, he led 
his division in person into action, 
covering himself with a glory which 
subsequent events have not dimin- 
ished. Brave as an Ajax, yet cir- 
cumspect as a Nestor, he has proved 
himself alike superior in leading a 
division or controUing an entire army. 
WilUam 0. Butler was born in Kentucky about the year 1793, of 
a family memorable for its military renown. His grandfather was 
a native of Ireland, who, having emigrated to America about the 
middle of the last century, settled in Pennsylvania. When the wai 
M — P 169 



170 WILLIAM 0. BUTLER. 

of independence broke out, the whole male portion of his descen 
dants, five stalwart sons, entered the army. The patriotism of tho 
sire and his children became so celebrated that Washington once 
gave, as a toast — " The Butlers and their five so;is." La Fayette 
was accustomed to say of them — " When I wanted a thing well done, 
I ordered a Butler to do it." 

The subject of this sketch was the second son of Percival Butler, 
the fourth in order of these five revolutionary brothers. William 0. 
Butler had just finished his collegiate course, and was preparing to 
study law, when the war of 1812 began. The surrender of Detroit 
having aroused the patriotism of every Kentuckian, a large force 
immediately volunteered to march on Canada and chastise the enemy^ 
Among those who enlisted was young Butler ; he entered as a pri- 
vate in Captain Hart's company of infantry ; but, before the army 
marched, was elected a Corporal. Soon after he was made an 
Ensign in the 1 7th infantry. This wing of the army, under General 
Winchester, advanced on the river Raisin, which they reached after 
a toilsome march in the dead of winter. Butler was present at both 
the actions on the Raisin, and on each occasion displayed great 
intrepidity. In the first battle, which was fought on the 18th of 
January, 1814, the Americans were victorious. In the second and 
more memorable one, which occurred four days later, they were 
defeated. 

In this latter battle Butler distinguished himself in the most heroic 
manner. At a critical portion of the conflict a body of the enemy 
was beheld advancing to seize a large double barn, which completely 
commanded the position of the Kentuckians. Major Madison im- 
mediately asked if there was no one who would volunteer to run 
the gauntlet of the British and Indian marksmen in order to set fire 
to this barn. Bntler promptly offered himself for the perilous 
enterprise. Snatching some blazing sticks from a fire at hand, he 
leaped the pickets, crossed an intervening field under a shower of 
balls, and thrust the brands among the straw, of the barn. The 
British beheld this daring exploit with amazement ; while the 
Americans enthusiastically cheered the young hero. Butler had 
already retraced a portion of his steps, when looking back and not 
perceiving any blaze, he coolly returned to see that the fire took 
effect. All this while the riflemen of the enemy were in vain aim- 
ing at him ; for, like Washington at Monongahela, he seemed to 
bear a charmed life. He finally regained the pickets in safety, but 
not until the barn was a mass of flame. Here a spent ball struck 
him in the breast, from llie effects of which he suffered for weeks. 



WILLIAM 0. BUTLER. 171 

By this act of personal heroism he laid the foundation of that popu- 
larity which led to his appointment, thirty-four years later, as a 
Major-General in the American army. 

Butler was one of the few wounded who escaped the massacre 
that followed the defeat ; but he was not allowed to pass entirely 
without suffering : h% was marched through Canada to Fort Niagara, 
enduring pain, hunger, fatigue and the worst inclemencies of the 
weather. His natural buoyancy of spirit did not, however, desert 
him, even under these discouraging circumstances ; and he whiled 
away his leisure by cultivating poetry, for which he had some tal- 
ent. In 1814 he was exchanged, and joined General Jackson in 
the south, with the rank of Captain. He arrived at head-quarters 
in time to assist in the attack on Pensacola, being the only officer 
present, at the head of the new Tennessee levies. Following General 
Jackson to New Orleans, he participated in the action of the 23rd of 
December, 1814. During the conflict, the commander of the regi- 
ment became lost in the darkness, when Butler as senior officer 
placed himself at the head of the men, and led them to repeated 
charges. He also fought at the more decisive battle of the 8th. 
For his meritorious conduct in this campaign he was made a Major 
by brevet. Soon after. General Jackson appointed him Aid-de-camp, 
in which situation he continued until he retired from the army. 

In 1817, with the rank of Colonel, Butler retired to private Hfe. 
He now resumed the study of the law, married, and settled on his 
patrimonial possessions at the confluence of the Ohio and Kentucky 
rivers. Here, for twenty -five years, he resided in comparative re- 
tirement, a mode of life admirably suited to his refined tastes and 
his fondness for domestic life. Without a particle of what is usually 
called ambition, he had no desire for popular office, except so far as 
he believed he could, by holding public trusts, conduce to the 
common weal. At last, in what he considered an important political 
crisis, he was induced by his friends to become a candidate for 
Congress. Twice he was elected, and would have been a third time 
perhaps, had he not declined a re-nomination. In 1844 he became 
an unsuccessful candidate of his party for Governor of Kentucky. 
Butler belongs to the democratic side in politics. He has never, 
however, been considered a violent partizan. 

When, after the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, 
Congress authorized the President to call out fifty thousand volun- 
teers, and also to appoint the requisite number of Major-Generals 
and Brigadiers for this imposing array, Butler was immediately 
selected by the executive as one of the Major-Generals. The 



172 WILLIAM 0. BITTLER. 

commission was accepted, and Butler promptly joined the army. 
On the 5th of September, at the head of Harney's and Quitman\'! 
volmiteers, he began his march from Camargo, his division compris- 
ing twenty-seven hundred men, the largest in the army. On the 
18th he came in sight of Monterey. Situated in the lap of hills, 
surromided with apparently impregnable def§nces, and presenting 
in its iiat-roofed stone houses a fort for every dwelling, this town 
seemed to defy assault. Its garrison was composed of eight thousand 
regulars, beside nearly three thousand other troops ; while the num- 
ber of the Americans did not exceed six thousand four hundred 
men. A single mortar and two twenty-four pound howitzers 
composed the entire battering train of Taylor. The assault of 
Monterey under such circumstances, would have appeared madness 
to an ordinary commander with ordinary troops ; but the American 
General, confident ahke in his own resources, and in the spirit of 
his officers and men, promptly resolved on a storm. His dispositions 
for the attack were skilfully made. Worth was detached with his 
division to assault the town on the right and rear ; while Twiggs 
and Butler were retained, with their divisions, for the attack on the 
front and left. 

In the attack on the left, where Taylor personally commanded, 
the division of Twiggs led the way, and was supported by Butler 
with the volunteers. The regulars had been in action an hour before 
the volunteers were allowed to advance ; and during this interval 
the latter exhibited the greatest uneasiness to be engaged. They 
had seen the division of Twiggs approach the city under a murder- 
ous fire, and plunge boldly into the labyrinth of lanes and streets 
in front, until lost to sight. But every moment, clouds of sulphurous 
smoke rising thicker and faster above the house-tops in the distance, 
proclaimed how fiercely the fight raged below. The crash of mus- 
ketry, the pent-up roar of artillery, and the shouts of combatants 
wafted continually to their anxious ears, excited and maddened the 
volunteers, as when a noble stag-hound, restrained by the leash, hears 
afar the bay of his fellows. At last the welcome command to 
advance was given." The men were already formed in hnes, sothat 
not a moment was lost, and with one simultaneous hurrah the Ohio, 
Tennessee and Mississippi regiments Avent careering over the plain. 
The latter two were directed to diverge to the left in order to support 
the regulars of Twiggs ; while the former was sent in front to the 
succor of Bragg's battery, which had already lost twenty horses. 
For a full mile, before they reached the suburbs, the volunteers were 
exposed to the batteries of the enemy. 



WILLIAM O. BUTLER. 173 

On approaching the outskirts of the town, the Ohio regiment, at 
the head of which Butler had heroically placed himself, was greeted 
with a tremendous cross fire of musketry and artillery. Raked by 
batteries in front, and torn by others on each flank, his soldiers ad 
vanced, nevertheless, with the firmness of veterans, and buffeting 
the iron whirlpool, struggled manfully to gain a foothold in th< 
town. But the Mexicans, posted behind house-walls and barriers 
possessed every advantage, and could, unseen, pick off their as 
sailants. In vain the volunteers passed garden after garden, and 
surmounted ditch after ditch, hoping, finally, to gain some open space, 
where they could at least behold their enemy ; that withering cross- 
fire from concealed marksmen still continued, the soldiers falling 
beneath it Hke rye beaten down by hail. Yet still the officers, 
pressing to the front, cheered on the men ; still, as they dropped 
dead, or wounded, other leaders sprang to their places; and still the 
men, answering their superiors with hurrahs, rushed on, firing where- 
ever they supposed a foe to be hidden, resolute to conquer or die. 
At last, some of the foremost, mounting a wall, perceived a corps of 
the enemy just in front, and bursting upon it like tigers, first mad- 
dened, and then let loose from their dens, they drove it before them 
until it sought shelter behind an impregnable battery. For a few 
minutes there succeeded a tremendous conflict between th« volun 
teers and the occupants of this battery ; the Mexicans firing grape 
and canister, as Avell as musketry, and the Americans replying with 
the latter. But a contest so unequal in the arms employed, and one 
moreover, in which one party was sheltered, and the other exposed, 
could not continue with any prospect of success. Yet Butler would 
still have endeavored to advance, if Major Mansfield, of the regulars, 
had not come up at this crisis, and informed him that if he attempted 
it, the advance of a few paces would bring him into the focus of a 
concentric fire from the batteries of several streets. Butler, how- 
ever, was still unwilling to retire, until Taylor, hearing the result of 
Mansfield's observation, ordered the volunteers to fail back, and this 
command they were preparing to execute, when circumstances arose 
which induced him to revoke his order. 

The brigade of Quitman, as we have seen, had entered the town 
to the left of the Ohio regiment, when it flung itself into the vortex 
of the conflict, which, for more than an hour, had raged around 
a strong fort in this quarter. The first and third infantry, led by 
Lieutenant-Colonel Garland, had passed, under a murderous fire 
into the rear of this fort, but were finally forced to retrace their 
steps, after a slaughter the more appalling, because it fell unequally 



174 WILLIAM O. BUTLER. 

on the officers. A portion of the first, however, had cUmbed to thij 
i-oof of a tannery which overlooked the fort, and soon the tremen- 
dous rolling of its musketry, followed by the shrieks of the garrison, 
announced the success of this movement. Yet the Mexicans in the 
fort had no thought of yielding ; with shouts they reanimated each 
other; and when the fourth mounted to assault them in front, that 
regiment was hurled back, deprived of one-third of its number. It 
was at this crisis that Quitman's brigade came up. The pr^«peci 
presented to that General was a field covered with a canopy of 
smoke, in the centre of which rose the Mexican fort, belching fire on 
every side, like a volcano. As he approached, Quitman saw the 
fourth reeling from the attack ; but it did not induce him to hesitate; 
he ordered his men instantly to advance with levelled bayonets ; and 
closing up the line as fast as it was torn asunder by the iron tor- 
rents it encountered, the gallant Tennesseeans and Mississippians 
pressed on over the open space, gained the foot of the intrenchments, 
and, with a deafening cheer, that drowned for an instant all the 
uproar of the fight, rushed up the ascent, engaged the defenders 
hand to hand, and planted the American flag triumphantly on the 
wall. At the same time a strong stone building in the rear was captured. 
At the intelligence of this splendid exploit, Taylor countermanded 
the order ibr Butler's retreat. 

Accordingly, the Ohio regiment was commanded to enter the 
town further to the left, in order to attack a second fort, which 
frowned in that direction, crowded with defenders. It required half 
an hour to approach within range of this work, and during the whole of 
this interval, the regiment was exposed to a concentric fire from- these 
batteries. Butler found the fort, after a hast}^ reconnoisance, stronger 
than he had suspected, it being flanked by a stone wall, ten feet 
high, with a deep ditch in front, besides being covered by other 
works within musketry range in its rear. He had, however, deter- 
mined on an assault, when he received a severe wound in his leg, 
which, bleeding profusely, incapacitated him for further service. He 
reluctantly left the ground, advising, as he retired, the abandonment 
of the attack. General Hamer, who succeeded to the command^ 
acknowledged the wisdom of this suggestion, for the hundred 
yards which intervened between the Americans and the fort, was 
swept by continual cross-discharges ; and to have entered those 
opposing blasts of fire, would have involved the loss of half of his 
men, even if the survivors could have breasted the scorching hur- 
ricane, and gained the safe ground beyond. Accordingly, he moved 
(he regiment to a less exposed situation, within sustaining distance 



WILLIAM O. BUTLER. 175 

of the American field-batteries on the left, and here maintained it for 
the residue of the day, under a continual fire from the enemy, which 
was borne without shrinking. Thus, after an unintermitted struggle 
of nearly three hours' duration, Butler retired from the field. In that 
short space he had lost one-fifth of his command. 

His own account of the reasons that induced him to fall back is as 
follows :— " The men were falling fast under the converging fire of 
at least three distinct batteries, that continually swept the intervening 
space through which it was necessary to pass. The loss of blood, 
too, from my wound, rendered it necessary that I should quit the 
field ; and I had discovered at a second glance that the position was 
covered by a heavy fire of musketry from other works directly in its 
rear, that 1 had not seen in the first hasty examination. Under all 
these discouragements, 1 was most reluctantly compelled, on surren- 
dering the command, to advise the withdrawal of the troops to a less 
exposed position. There is a possibility that the work might have 
been carried, but not without excessive loss, and if carried, I feel as- 
sured it would have been untenable." 

In the same official despalch, Butler thus compliments the volun- 
teers : — " It is with no little pride and gratification that I bear testi- 
mony of the gallantry and good conduct of my command. Were 
proof wanting, a mournful one is to be found in the subjoined return 
of the casualties of the day. That part of my division properly in 
the field did not exceed eleven hundred, of" which number full one- 
fifth were either killed or wounded. The fact that troops for the 
first time under fire should have suffered such loss without shrinking, 
in a continuous struggle for more than two hours, and mainly against 
a sheltered and inaccessible foe, finds but few parallels, and is of 
itself an eulogium to which I need not add. That there were some 
more .prominent for skill and gallantry than others, even in a contest 
where all were brave, there can be no doubt: and I leave to those 
better qualified from their situations than myself the pleasing though 
delicate task of reporting upon their respective merits." 

Butler's wound was not considered dangerous at first. A musket 
ball had struck him below the knee in front, grazing the bones 
without appearing to injure them, and after ranging round through 
the flesh, coming out on the opposite side. He would not, probably, 
have left the field, but that he became faint from loss of blood. In 
a few weeks he was able to resume active duty. But, in the end, 
the wound proved more serious than it had been at first considered ; 
and finally, after some months delay, Butler returned to the United 
States to seek surgical advice. When he left the army, it was be 



176 



WILLIAM O. BT/TLEIt. 



lieved that no further hostilities would take place on the Rio Grande 
The battle of Buena Vista, however, subsequently occurred, invited 
by the withdrawal of Taylor's regulars ; but Butler's wound, even 
if he had continued in Mexico, would not, probably, have allowed 
him to participate in the glories of that day. 

Butler remained at home until towards the close of 1847, when he 
joined the army of General Scott, in the capital of Mexico. Soon 
after, Scott being recalled, Butler, by right of seniority, succeeded to 
the chief command. 

In person, Butler is tall and straight ; his movements are alert and 
active ; his face is thin, with aquiline features, and not unlike that 
of Jackson was, though less stern. 





BATTLE OF PALAKLAKLAHA. 



WILLIAM J. WORTH. 



K 




^^^ HE Murat of the army of Mexico was 
Major-General William J. Worth. His 
handsome person, his dashing courage, 
and the prestige which surrounds his 
name forcibly recall that impetuous 
prince, the Roland of Napoleon's army. 
Few Americans have participated in 
so many battles as Worth : none, per- 
haps, in such numerous victories. — 
Prominently distinguished in the war 
of 1812 ; then in that of Florida ; then 
under Taylor at Monterey ; and finally 
in the campaign of Scott, he has run 
a career alike fortunate and brilliantj 
in which glory and promotion have followed hand in hand. 

Worth claims descent from one of the earliest Puritan settlers. 
He was born in the year 1794, received a plain but substantial 
education, and began life as a trader's clerk in Hudson, N. Y. The 
war of 1813 breaking out, he joined the army as a private soldier, 

25 177 



178 WILLIAM J. WORTH. 

but did not long remain in the ranks. A fellow clerk had enlisted 
with him, who soon after, for some indiscretion, was placed under 
arrest. In this emergency he applied to Worth, who undertook to 
write a petition for him to the Colonel. This officer happened to be 
Scott, who, struck with the elegant style of the memorial, inquirea 
the name of the writer, and sending for him, constituted him his 
private secretary. Scott did not stop here. He procured for Worth 
the commission of a Lieutenant in the twenty-third regiment ot 
infantry. From that hour, up to the unhappy difference in Mexico, 
the closest intimacy existed between Worth and Scott. 

In the battle of Chippewa, Worth proved the correctness of Scott's 
estimate of character, by signalizing himself especially ; and was con- 
•sequently rewarded with the rank of Captain. In the battle of 
Lundy's Lane, Worth, after several hours of severe fighting, received 
a dangerous wound. In consideration of this, he was raised to the 
rank of Major. After the peace, he was, for a period, superinten- 
dent of the West Point Military Academy ; a post which is always a 
guarantee of high ability on the part of the occupant. It was here 
also, that Worth laid the foundation of those numerous friendships 
which have since rendered him so popular in the service. In 1824, 
he was appointed a Lieutenant-Colonel ; in 1832, a Major of 
ordnance ; and in. 1838, Colonel of the eighth regiment of infantry, 
which is the rank he still holds in the line. 

After this last promotion. Worth was occupied for awhile, on the 
northern frontier, and snbsequently, in the west. In 1840, he was 
detached to Florida. In 1841, on the retirement of General Armis- 
tead. Worth succeeded to the chief command. Marching westward 
from Tampa Bay, he sought every occasion to bring the Indians to 
battle, but for a long time they evaded all his attempts. At last, on 
the 17th of April, 1842, he overtook them at Palaklaklaha, near the 
St. John's, and a terrible action ensued. The result was a decisive 
victory for Worth. In recompense for his gallantry on this day, the 
President conferred on him the brevet of a Brigadier. Worth re- 
mained in Florida for a considerable period, but was never able to 
bring the savages to a pitched field again. On his retirement from 
his southern command, he was, for awhile, inactive ; but in 1845, 
when Taylor was sent to Corpus Christi, Worth was ordered to 
join him. While the army lay opposite Matamoras, prior to the com • 
raencement of hostilities, a difficulty arose between Worth and 
Twiggs, in reference to seniority, which led to the temporary retire- 
ment of the former from the service. 

The controversy had its origin in the claim of Worth to take com- 



WILLIAM J. WORTH. 179 

mand of the army, in the event of Taylor's absence or death, by 
virtue of his brevet of Brigadier. This claim Twiggs resisted. At 
that period, the line of the army contained but eight Colonels of in- 
fantry, and two of cavalry. Each of these took rank from the date 
of his commission. The commission of Twiggs was dated the 8th 
of June, 1836, and that of Worth, the 7th of July, 1838: hence, 
unless Worth's brevet of Brigadier operated as a commission, Twiggs 
would command as senior, in case of Taylor's death or absence. 
The dispute was referred to Taylor for adjustment, when the Com- 
mander-in-chief gave his decision in favor of Twiggs. This he did 
because, when Scott, several years before, had applied to Congress 
for the passage of a law, declaring a brevet a commission, that body 
had refused the application ; and Taylor accordingly considered the 
question as settled by authority. Worth, however, believing himself 
aggrieved, hurried to Washington, and resigned. Meantime, the 
battles of the 8th and 9th of May were fought. Chagrined that he 
had lost two such brilliant fields, Worth asked leave to resume his 
commission, and return to the seat of war. This wish being granted, 
he hastened to rejoin Taylor. 

There can be no doubt that brevet rank places the holder in 
an anomalous position, where he is apt to exact too much, or obtain 
too little. According to the rights now declared to attach to brevet 
rank, Worth, though nominally a Major-General, and serving through 
the last campaign in that capacity, is, in reality, but a Colonel in the 
Une, and outranked by four or five others, comparatively unknown 
to fame. Yet there are advantages, nevertheless, in bi^evet rank, 
since it enables government to reward a meritorious officer with a 
quasi promotion, when, if brevets were not in use, such promotion 
could only come by seniority. Brevet rank was first introduced into 
the American service by Washington, but fell into disuse until the 
war of 1812, when President Madison conferred the brevet of Major 
on Taylor, for the latter's gallant defence of Fort Harrison. After 
this, brevets were of frequent occurrence. Every Colonel of ten 
years standing, is made a brevet Brigadier-General, by a rule of the 
army. In England, brevet rank is different from what it is here. 
There, the highest rank in the line, is that of Colonel ; all the supe- 
rior appointments being held by brevet. Consequently, no collisions 
arise from it in the British service. 

The first opportunity Worth had of distinguishing himself, after 
rejoining the army, was at Monterey. Sympathizing with his 
feelings, the General-in-chief resolved to give him a separate com- 
mand, in order that he might the more signally distinguish himself 



180 WILLIAM J. WORTH. 

Accordingly, Taylor, on the 20th of September, detached Worth-. 
with his division, reinforced by Hay's mounted Texans, to the gorge 
of the Saltillo road, with instructions to seize it, and, if possible, carry 
the heights by which it was commanded. These heights were two 
in number. The first was on the opposite side of the San Juan, and 
was called Federation hill ; the second was on the hither side, and 
bore the name of Independence hill. As the road ran along the side 
of the river in a narrow valley between these hills, the forts erected 
upon them completely commanded it. Without they were captured, 
it would be impossible to enter Monterey from the west. Their fall, 
on the contrary, would open a way immediately to the hea^.T oi the 
town, besides aifording a diversion in favor of Taylor, who proposed 
assaulting the city on the east, from the Seralvo road. Hence, the 
service on which Worth was detached, possessed the highest 
importance. He felt this, and, as he leaped into the saddle, to place 
himself at the head of his division, exclaimed, " a grade or a grave V 
It was 2, P. M., when Worth left the main army, and began his 
march to the Saltillo road. He had to make a circuit of ten miles, 
to attain his object, and hence, except for a short time on the follow- 
ing day, he was out of communication with Taylor until the fall of 
Monterey. Thus he was thrown entirely on his own resources. His 
friends, judging from the impetuosity of his character, and liis 
eagerness to atone for his absence on the Sth and 9th of Ma}?-, had 
feared he would unnecessarily expose his troops, but with a pru- 
dence only equalled by his skill, he achieved such brilliant results, 
with a loss of life so small, as to fully exonerate himself from the 
imputation of temerity, and almost to divide the glory of the siege 
with Taylor. A reconnoisance, on the afternoon of the 20th, con- 
vinced him that the enemy were reinforcing Federation and Indepen- 
dence hills ; he despatched a note to the Commander-in-chief early 
on the following morning, soliciting a diversion in his favor, 
by an attack from the Ceralvo road. Taylor was already preparing 
to begin the battle in this quarter, but, on receipt of the message, 
he sent May's dragoons, and Wood's mounted Texans, to support 
Worth Before these arrived, however. Worth had come into 
collision with the enemy. Early on the morning of the 21st, just as 
he turned an angle of the mountain, which led him into the Saltillo 
road, he suddenly saw before him, half concealed among some corn 
on the slope of Independence hill, about a thousand of the renowned 
Mexican lancers. Instantly the enemy raised a wild hurrah, and 
galloped to the charge. Disregarding the Texan skirmishers who 
iined the road in advance, and who poured on them a murderous 



WILLIAM J. WORTH. 181 

fire as they passed, these gallant troops bore right down on the main 
body, their Colonel leading the advance. Their scarlet and green 
pennons fluttered above them ; their long lances flashed back the 
sunbeams ; and the clatter of their thousand horses rose up like the 
hammering of incessant anvils! A portion of McCullough's men, 
headed by Captain Walker, dashed forward to meet them, but were 
swept back towards the main body again, though struggling vehe- 
mently in the torrent. The fire of the regulars now opened, and 
the eighth infantry gallantly charged. Still the lancers came on, 
while the earth shook beneath their terrible tread. But, at this crisis, 
Duncan thundered into position with his hght artillery, and opened, 
with grape and canister, over the heads of our men. The road in 
an instant was covered with the dead and wounded, the latter strug- 
gling amid bleeding horses, who frequently dragged them over the 
neighboring steeps. The enemy faltered, wheeled, and retraced their 
steps, receiving the fire of the Texans, and of the infantry of the first 
brigade, which had been pushed forward along the sides of the hills. 
The chivalrous Colonel was the last to retire. Disdaining to show 
fear, he reined in his horse^ and rode leisurely down the road. A 
Texan raised his rifle, and the cavalier fell, to the regret of all who 
witnessed his noble bearing. The whole action did not last fifteen 
minutes. The Americans lost but one man ; the enemy not less than 
a hundred. The quickness with which this splendid body of lancers 
had been repulsed, inspired the men with confidence, and, from that 
moment. Worth had not a doubt of ultimate success. 

The enemy was pursued until the American General entered the 
gorge where all the roads leading from Monterey on the west, unite. 
He thus excluded the defeated troops from the city, and cut off" the 
possibility of its receiving supplies or reinforcements. Finding him- 
self, however, directly under the fire of the batteries on Independence 
and Federation hills, he moved on towards the city, along the Saltillo 
road, until out of range. Here he halted, to consider what was his. 
best course. To leave the batteries in his rear, would be to place 
his communications in the enemy's power ; and, accordingly, he 
resolved to storm the heights as a preliminary to any farther advance. 
It was high noon when he came to this decision. The sun poured 
down its vertical rays. The men had already been in action once 
that day, and, in addition, were more or less exhausted by their 
march. But, when the intentions of the General were known, all 
became anxious to partake in the assault ; and those that were left 
behind could scarcely conceal their chagrin. 

Federation hill, which, as we have said, was on the opposite side ' 

M — Q 



182 WILLIAM J. WORTH. 

of the San Juan, was the first point selected for attack. This eleva 
tion was crowned by a battery, and, on the same ridge, about six 
hundred yards eastward, was another, called Soldado. The fire 
from this point was incessant. By it. Captain McKavett, of the 
eighth, had already been shot through the heart, and a private mortal!} 
wounded. Four companies of the fourth artillery, and six compa 
nies of Texan riflemen, the whole numbering three hundred men 
were selected to storm» this work. The command was given to 
Captain C. F. Smith. Taking a circuitous route, to avoid the fire 
of the enemy. Captain Smith forded, the San Juan ; but, before he 
reached the foot of the hill, .Worth, perceiving the Mexicans 
descending to meet him, despatched Captain Miles, with the seventh, 
to his support. Miles forded the river directly in front of the battery, 
under a tremendous discharge of musketry, grape, and round shot, 
and reaching the foot of the ascent before Captain Smith, coolly 
formed his men there without cover, the plunging fire continuing. 
Both these detachments were hidden from the sight of the anxious 
groups at head-quarters for nearly an hour, during which the crest 
and slopes of the hill were seen crowded with the enemy, who, all 
the while, rained down his iron sleet into the chapparal below. At last 
Captain Smith reached the foot of the ascent, and placed himself in 
front At first a rattling fire was heard from below, then puffs of 
white smoke broke from the chapparal, and finally, a wreath of 
vapor circled around the hill, and began steadily to ascend its sides. 
Occasionally a soldier was seen leaping from rock to rock, as he 
climbed the acclivity. The sharp, irregular crack of the Texan 
rifles could be distinguished from the solid vollies of the regulars. 
Steadily that girdle of smoke mounted the hill, the enemy retiring 
before it, and the rocks below, so lately hidden by the vapor, 
emerging slowly to sight. At last the assailants reached the crest 
of the hill; there were a few moments of terrible suspense ; and then 
the stars and stripes were seen soaring above the white canopy of 
battle, and a gun, reverberating through the gorges of the mountains, 
announced that the height was won. 

While the combat yet hung in suspense, the unexpected numbers 
of the enemy appearing on the slopes, induced Worth to despatch 
the fifth infantry, and Blanchard's Louisiana volunteers, the whole 
commanded by Colonel P. F. Smith, to the succor of the storming 
party. Colonel Smith, however, had barely forded the river, and 
met the advanced parties of the enemy, when he perceived the 
capture of the battery. He immediately turned his attention to the 
Soldado fort, and pressing obliquely up the mountain side, strove to 



WILLIAM J. WORTH 



1S3 



reach his prize before the conquerors of the Federation. These lastj 
detecting his design, labored to anticipate him. The race was gal- 
lantly contested. The Mexicans fought desperately, discharging 
grape and balls incessantly. But their heroism was in vain. Stimu- 
lated by being in sight of head-quarters, and by the natural rivalry 
between the two commands, the separate parties of the Americans 
rushed headlong on, and finally mingled together in entering the 
battery. The colors of the fifth were the first to supplant the Mexi- 
can flag ; those of the seventh, however, floated on the walls a 
moment afterwards. A huzza rent the air at this sight, which was 
heard far across the valley below. Immediately the guns in both 
the captured forts were turned on Independence hill, only six 
hundred yards distant ; and night closed in to the wild music of this 




B'SHOP's PALACE, MONTEREY. 



iron hail singing across the gathering rain and gloom. The troops 
lay down to sleep without having tasted food for thirty-six hours. 
An icy wind sweeping down from the mountains, chilled them in 
their wet garments. They consoled themselves, however, with 
reflecting on the glory they had won, and in anticipating new victo 
ties on the morrow, when Independence hill was to be stormed. 



184 WILLIAM J. WORTH. 

The structure of this hill was peculiar. On the side looking 
towards the mountains, it was nearly precipitous ; but on the side 
towards the city, the descent was gradual to the suburbs, which 
encroached upon its base. Midway up the slope, on this side, was 
the Bishop's Palace, a strongly built structure, capable of being 
rendered almost impregnable against assault. On the crest of the 
hill, a quarter of a mile further up, was a battery of sand bags, 
which could only be reached by ascending a wall of rock, nearly 
sixty feet in perpendicular height. Worth, however, resolved to carry 
this battery as a preliminary to his attack on the castle. To eifect 
this, he detached Colonel Childs, at the head of three companies of 
artillery, three of infantry, and two hundred Texan riflemen. A 
dark mist which wrapped the mountain, facilitated the movements 
of the storming party. When half way up the ascent, however, 
the assailants were betrayed by the breaking of day, and immedi- 
ately the Mexicans, who had been on the look-out, opened a destruc- 
tive fire. But the Americans, climbing by the brush that grew out 
of fissures in the rocks, forced their way to the summit, where, rushing 
forward to the base of the fort, they made good their entrance, the 
Texans clubbing their rifles, and the regulars charging with the 
bayonet. The Mexicans retreating in confusion down the mountain, 
took shelter in the Bishop's Palace. As day dawned, the victorious 
Americans forgot all their toils in the view that opened before them 
from this dizzy height. Below them nestled the cluster of white 
houses, forming Monterey. Looking northward, up the valley of 
the San Juan, innumerable corn-fields were seen emerging from the 
mists, while far in the distance, the picturesque town of Merine, 
shone like a pearl amid green waters. Southward, the river wound 
through mountain defiles, here appearing, there disappearing, as if a 
thread of silver twisting in and out. 

The Mexicans having removed the guns from this battery, and 
the assault on the palace promising to be very sanguinary unless 
aided by artillery. Worth ordered a twelve-pound howitzer from 
Duncan's battery to be hoisted up the steep. With incredible toil, 
and after two hours of labor, the piece was elevated to the desired 
position, when it opened with shell and shrapnel on the outworks 
of the palace, distant only four hundred yards. The bombs boundmg 
and hissing around the building, soon drove the enemy into cover 
Worth now prepared for a grand assault. The eighth and fifth 
infantry, with Blanchard's volunteers, were brought over from the 
opposite heights, and formed into columns in sheltered ravines and 
hollows, principally on the north side of the mountain. At the same 



WILLIAM J. WORTH. 183 

time, Colonel Childs was moved down from the top of the hill, and 
formed on the southern face. The Mexicans, perceiving the 
detachment on the summit weakened, made a sally from the palace 
with a large body of cavalry, and being joined by another corps, 
heretofore hidden behind the hill, spurred vigorously up the ascent. 
The Americans in front, being instructed, fell back. At this, the 
enemy pressed on with renewed animation. The Mexicans were 
soon beyond the protection of the palace, when our concealed columns 
emerged from their coverts, and closed in the rear of the foe. Simul- 
taneously, the detachment which had been retiring up the hill, 
halted, and threw in a withering fire. The Mexicans now saw the 
stratagem of which they were the victims. Before was a girdle of 
fire ; behind a wall of steel. They wheeled, and fled in confusion. 
With loud shouts and rattUng volleys, the Americans pursued, while 
the consternation and speed of the foe increased every minute. The 
great body of the cavalry rushed* frantically down the hill, carrying 
their alarm into the city itself; a few, however, made for the sally 
port of the palace, which they entered, but pell-mell with their 
pursuers. The victory was soon decided by the death, or expulsion 
of the Mexican garrison. A salvo of cannon and small arms, accom- 
panying the hoisting of the American flag, announced that Indepen- 
dence hill was won. The guns of the captured place were promptly 
turned on the suburbs, and Duncan, arriving soon after, added his 
terrific artillery. 

The remainder of the 22d passed without any further demonstra- 
tion. But on the 23d, the heavy firing on the east of the town, 
announced that Taylor had resumed the attack, on which Worth 
proceeded to co-operate, by advancing with all his disposable strength 
against the western side of the city. Two columns of attack were 
organized to move along the two principal streets, in the direction 
of the great square. Their orders were to reach a small square 
called Capella, with as little loss as possible. Here they were to 
leave the street, break into the dwellings, and cutting through the 
partition walls of the houses, work their way along. . As soon as 
each fresh house was gained, they were to ascend to the roof, from 
which they were to open a tire on the next house. The light artil- 
lery was to follow, at a safe distance, and, while the men were th^s 
engaged burrowing from dweUing to dwelling, was to sweep the 
streets with canister and grape. By these means the cross-batteries 
and barricades, a complete net-work of which the enemy had woven 
around every approach to the great square, were skilfully turned. 
The attack ci Worth had scarcely begun, when that of Taylor 



186 WILLIAM J: worth. 

ceased, so that the former General had now the enemy ahnost 
entirely on his hands. He worked on, however, with equal perse- 
verance and resolution. Before sunset the enemy had been driven 
so far, that a ten-inch mortar was safely mounted in the square 
Capella,and soon opened with terrible effect, throwing its shells into the 
great square beyond. By dark, the troops had cut their way to 
within a single block of the grand plaza, leaving a covered way in 
their rear. They also had carried a large buildingowhich towered 
over the principal defences, and this, during the night, they sur- 
mounted with two howitzers and a .six-pounder. All things were 
prepared to renew the assault at the dawn of day. But this was 
prevented by the arrival of a flag of truce, asking a suspension of 
arnis, in order to treat for a surrender. The capitulation of Monte- 
re)'- followed. 

For his conduct on this occasion. Worth received the brevet of 
a Major-General. Taylor haviag fixed his head-quarters at 
Monterey, despatched Worth against Saltillo, with twelve hundred 
men, and eight pieces of artillery. In December, Taylor was about 
to move against Victoria, when Worth, learning that Santa Anna 
contemplated an attack on Saltillo, sent an express, which induced the 
Commander-in-chief to countermarch on Monterey, Soon after Worth 
was ordered to join Scott with his division. Accordingly, he marched 
from Saltillo to the rendezvous on the coast, and thence sailed with 
the expedition against Vera Cruz. On the landing of the troops, 
Worth was the first general officer to spring on shore, where he 
drew up his troops to cover the disembarkation of the remaining 
divisions. When the city of Vera Cruz fell, Worth was appointed 
its MiUtary Governor. On the advance of the army into the interior, 
he commanded the rear until the battle of Cerro Gordo, but subse- 
quently, the van was entrusted to him, at the head of which he 
captured Perote on the 22d of April. He entered Puebla in 
triumph, on the 15th of May, marching at once to the great square, 
where his little band, at his directions, fearlessly stacked their arms 
in the heart of a hostile city of sixty thousand souls. 

The army remained at Puebla until the Sth of August, when it 
began its memorable march on the capital. Worth was now again 
in the rear, where he remained until Scott, finding the approaches 
to Mexico impracticable by the Vera Cruz road, turned off around 
the southern side of Lake Chalco, and threw himself on the great 
Acapulco highway, where the defences were slighter. The practi- 
cability of this movement, it is said, was first suggested by Worth,, 
who had instituted a thorough reconnoisance of the ground to bq 



WILLIAM J. WORTH. 187 

traversed. The result proved the accuracy of his observationSj for 
^ne road, though difficult, presented no insuperable obstacles. Once 
on the Acapulco road, Scott lost no time in advancing on the capital. 
While, with great skill, he made a flank movement on Contreras, 
which opened to him the rear of the strong works at San Antonio, 
Worth was directed to push along the road in front, drive in the 
enemy, and pursue him as far as possible. Worth accordingly, on 
the 20th of August, within an hour after the victory of Contreras, 
put his columns in motion, and brushing the enemy from his path, 
moved up as far as Churubusco. Here the Mexicans made a stand, 
and a terrible battle ensued. In this sanguinary conflict. Worth 
commanded the right wing of the American army, and driving the 
enemy from the tete du point, pursued him to the gates of 
Mexico. 

When the attempt of Mr. Trist to negotiate a peace had failed*^ and 
Scott had resolved to renew the war, the execution of his first hostile 
movement, the destruction of Molino del Rey, was entrusted to 
Worth. This terrible battle, fought on the 8th of September, has 
been generally considered the masterpiece of Worth. We do not 
regard it as such. The skill evinced by Worth at Monterey, was 
far greater than that displayed at Molino del Rey. The latter was 
a desperate, protracted, and sanguinary battle, in which the Ameri- 
cans triumphed more through sheer courage than generalship. A 
fatal mistake in reconnoitre'ing Casa Mata, led to the most terrible 
slaughter of our troops. The day would, probably, have been lost, 
moreover, but for Cadwalader, who, when the assaulting columns 
were beginning to shake, brought up his reserves, and carried the 
enemy's lines in the most brilliant manner. Nevertheless, the action 
will always reflect glory on Worth. In the storming of Chap ul tepee, 
Worth did not directly participate, though a forlorn hope of two 
hundred and fifty men was selected from his division. After the 
fall of the castle, however, he commanded the assault on the San 
Cosmo gate, and would have been the first to enter the city,. if Quit- 
man had not converted his attack on the Belen gate, which was to 
have been a feigned, into a real one. Throughout the whole cam- 
paign, Worth had played the most prominent part of any General 
in the army, after the Commander-in-chief. Able, courageous, 
popular with the soldiers, with a name which carried the prestige of 
victory with it wherever it came, he seems always to have been the 
one selected when any very difficult enterprise was to be undertaken, 
or when glory was to be won, literally, at the cannon's mouth. 

An unfortunate difficulty arose between Scott and Worth at 



188 



WILLIAM J. WORTH. 



Puebla, which, though smothered at the time, broke out anew after the 
fall of the capital, and led to the latter being placed under arrest. 
The decision of Worth's fellow officers, was unanimously against 
him,, and it is impossible, therefore, to exonerate him from the charge 
of disrespect. On Scott's part, perhaps, there was irritation and 
haste ; but he was the less censurable of the two. The request of 
the General-in-chief to have Worth tried, was rejected by the Presi- 
dent ; a court of inquiry, however, was ordered ; but before this body 
Scott refused to lay his charges. The proceeding, accordingly, was 
dropped. The whole affair is to be regretted the more, as it inter- 
rupted a friendship of thirty -five years duration between Scott and 
Worth. 

On Worth's restoration to rank, he was assigned the command of 
the first division, at the head of which he remained until the decla- 
ration^ of peace. After this, he was assigned to the command of the 
South- Western division, having his head-quarters at San Antonio, Texas. 
At this place he died an untimely death by cholera, on the 7th of May, 
1849. 





J OHN E. WOOL 




HAT Worth was to Taylor at Monterey, that 
Wool was to him at Buena Vista ! We may 
venture further and say that without Wool the 
battle of Buena Vista would probably have 
been lost. It was Wool who originally pointed 
out the great strength of the pass of Angostura: 
it was Wool who disciplined the volunteers 
until they almost rivalled regulars : and it was 
Wool, who, on the eventful 23rd of February, animated and directed 
the troops for two hours of almost hopeless struggle, prior to the 
arrival of Taylor from Saltillo. 

Wool was born in Orange county. New York, of a family which 
had been whigs in the Revolution. His father dying at an early 
;ige, he was taken by his grandfather, a respectable farmer of Rens- 
selaer county, who placed him, while a boy, as clerk in a store iu 

189 ' 



190' JOHTf E. WOOL. 

Troy Wool rose, in time, to be a merchant, and was on the nigh- 
way to success, when a fire, in one night, reduced him to beggary 
and induced him to turn his attention into other channels. The war 
of 1812 had just begun, and some influential friends offering to 
procure him a commission of Captain, he embraced the opportunity, 
enhsted a company, and at once entered on his miUtary career. 

His first battle was that of Queenstown heights. On that occa- 
sion, though wounded in both thighs, he led the assault on the 
British position, and put the enemy to flight. The foe being 
reinforced by a detachment under General Brock in person, the tide 
of battle turned ; but Wool, rallying his forces, renewed the assault 
and drove the English a second time from their batteries. It was 
in this action that Brock was slain. Wool, in 1813, was promoted 
to the rank of Major. Throughout the war he continued to be 
distinguished for alacrity, courage and ability ; but enjoyed no second 
opportunity to distinguish himself until the battle of Plattsburgh. 
For his conduct in that action Macomb recommended him particu- 
larly to the notice of government, in consequence of which he 
received the brevet of a Lieutenant-Colonel, to date from September 
nth, 1814. 

Wool remained in the army at the expiration of the war, deter- 
mining to make the military career his permanent profession. In 
1816 he was commissioned Inspector-General, with the rank of 
Colonel. In 1826 he received the brevet of a Brigadier. He con- 
tinued to act as Inspector-General until 1841, when, in consequence 
of the elevation of Scott to the post of Commander-in-chief, he 
succeeded to the vacant Brigadiership. At that time he and Gaines 
were the only full Brigadiers in the army, as Scott was the only full 
Major-General. His services as Inspector-General had been arduous, 
his annual tour to the different military posts requiring him to tra- 
verse nearly ten thousand miles. He was also employed on three 
special missions by the President. The first was the suppression of 
the Canadian outbreak; the second was the carrying out the treaty 
with the emigrating Cherokees ; and the third was a tour of exami- 
nation through Europe, to learn the state of military improvements 
abroad. It was while engaged' in this last duty that he had the good 
fortune to be present at the siege of Antwerp. 

When the war with Mexico began. Wool solicited an active com- 
mand. He was accordingly despatched to the west, to organize 
and muster into the service the twelve months volunteers of Ohio, 
Indiana, Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Mississippi. In six 
weeks he had completed this task, and despatched ten thousand men 



JOHN E. WOOL. 19^r 

to succor Taylor. Three thousand he reserved for himself, in com- 
pliance with the orders of the President, who, having projected an 
expedition against Coahuila, had assigned the command of it to 
Wool. His force was first concentrated at San Antonio de Bexar. 
It consisted of the first and second Illinois infantry, under Colonels 
Hardin and Bissel ; the Kentucky and Arkansas mounted regiments, 
led by Colonels Marshall and Yell ; Washington's flying artillery ; 
Benneville's battalion of regular infantry ; and Colonel Harney, with 
four companies of his dragoons. The whole of the division numbered 
two thousand six hundred men. 

Wool set his little army in motion for the Rio Grande towards the 
latter part of September, 1846 ; and, on the 12th of October, crossed 
the dividing line between Mexico and the United States. Prosecu- 
ting his march he reached the city of Parras on the 6th of December, 
having traversed a hostile region of more than four hundred miles, 
and captured on his route five considerable cities, with populations 
numbering from five to fifteen thousand souls. In this journey he 
traversed sterile wastes, crossed mountain ranges, and endured, with 
his troops, privations that would have subdued any men less ener- 
getic. At Parras, which lies on the south-western confines of the 
state of Coahuila, Wool remained for eleven days, recruiting his 
troops with the abundant supplies furnished by the neighboring 
region. The inhabitants received him with friendly feelings, many 
of them being admirers of the government of the United States. 
Wool's original destination had been Chihuahua, the capital of 
Coahuila, but he had long since doubted the policy of prosecuting 
the expedition. While lying at Parras he received an express from 
Worth, then stationed at Saltillo, and who, alarmed by Santa Anna's 
threatened advance, had despatched a messenger to recall Taylor 
from Victoria, and another to bring up Wool from Parras. The 
courier reached the latter General on the 17th of December, and in 
two hours the army was ready to march. 

Saltillo, where Worth was encamped, was one hundred and twenty 
miles from Parras, north by east. Worth had written that Santa 
Anna was within three days' march of him at the head of thirty 
thousand men, while he had but one thousand ; yet he engaged to 
hoJd out for a day, and urged Wool to succor him on the fourth day. 
Accordingly, on the 21st, the latter reached Saltillo. He had made 
a forced march, rousing his men every morning at one o'clock, and 
completing the whole journey in less than three days and a half. 
!• ortunately the alarm of Santa Anna's approach proved false. But 



192 JOHN E. WOOL* 

the arrival of Wool was of the utmost importance, for when, a few 
days later. Worth was siammoned to join Scott, the army of Taylor 
would have heen reduced to a few regiments only but for this rein 
forcement. Moreover, the long experience of Wool, his tried courage, 
and the high state of discipline to which he brought the volunteers, 
proved of the most vital assistance to the Commander-in-chief on the 
sanguinary field of Buena Vista. 

As early as the 23rd of December, two days after his arrival at 
Saltillo, Wool, while riding through the pass of Angostura, perceived 
the advantages it afforded. " This is the very spot of all others I 
have yet seen in Mexico," he said, halting and surveying the ground, 
" which I should select for battle, were I obliged with a small army 
to fight a large one." He pointed out the net-work of deeply worn 
channels on the right, which, he declared, would completely protect 
that flank. The heights on the left, he said, would command the 
road, while the ravines in front of them, and which extend back to 
the mountain on that side, would cripple the movements of the foe 
should he attempt to turn that flank. These predictions were veri- 
fied by the result. General Butler, then in command at Saltillo, 
disagreed with Wool, however, and preferred, as a battle-field, the 
broad plain in front of the city. But General Taylor, on arriving at 
the advanced posts, concurred in Wool's opinion, and the pass of 
Angostura in consequence became the scene of the eventful struggle 
of the 22nd and 23rd of February ! 

Wool's conduct in the battle of Buena Vista cannot be too highly 
estimated. He was continually present at the most exposed points, 
particularly on the left flank, which .was under his especial command. 
After the disastrous charge of Clay, McKee and Hardin, when the 
Mexicans, turning, like wounded tigers, on their too presumptuous 
assailants, almost annihilated them, Wool threw himself into the 
midst of the peril, and rallied the fugitives by his voice and example. 
Among other regiments extirpated, for the time, by that terrible 
attaci<, was the second Illinois, Six companies of that gallont body 
had, in the morning, witlistood, for a time, the whole Mexican line: 
but, after this sanguinary onslaught, only four men of them could 
be collected by Wool. Galloping to the front, the General shouted, 
" Illinois, Illinois, to the rescue : out, my brave boys, out and delend 
our batteries !" These few men, with others of the first Illinois, and 
a few Kentuckians, rallied to his voice. For a moment tlie little 
r>and stood almost unsupported, in full view of the victorious columns 
>f the enemy. But soon others of Wool's followers, hearing his 



JOHN E. WOOL. 193 

shrill, trumpet-like tones, and inspired by his recklessness of danger, 
gathered around him ; and the battery of Bragg simultaneously 
opening its tremendous fire, they had the joy speedily of beholding 
the enemy in full retreat. 

There is one feature in the conduct of the two principal heroes of 
this battle, which will always endear them to the popular heart : 
we allude to the sincere co-operation which they afforded each other, 
and the frankness with which they mutually admitted obligations. 
Taylor, in his first despatch, written hurriedly on the field, says : — 
" I may be permitted here, however, to acknowledge my great ol«- 
Hgations to General Wool, the second in command, to whom I feel 
particularly indebted for his valuable services on this occasion." In 
his subsequent and more detailed account, he remarks : — " To Briga- 
dier-General Wocl my obligations are especially due. The high 
state of discipUne of several of the volunteer regiments was attained 
under his command ; and to his vigilance and arduous service before 
the action, and his gallantry and activity on the field, a large share 
of our success may justly be attributed. During most of the engage- 
ment he was in immediate command of the troops thrown back on 
our left flank. I beg leave to recommend him to the favorable 
notice of government." On his part. Wool, in his official report 
speaks as follows of Taylor : — " I cannot close without expressing, 
officially and formally, as I have heretofore done personally to the 
Major-General commanding, the feelings of gratitude I have for the 
confidence and extreme consideration which have marked all his 
acts towards me ; which have given me additional motives for exer- 
tion and increased zeal in the execution of the responsible duties 
with which I have been charged." How much more noble the 
spectacle of such generosity of soul than that of the enmity and 
rancor which too often disgraces the relations of the commanding 
General and his inferiors ! 

Wool's soubriquet in the army is " the old war-horse," a title 
eloquent of his high courage, tireless perseverance, and energy in 
battle. He is not only a strict, but a severe disciplinarian. An 
anecdote is told of him which places him in striking contrast with 
Taylor in this respect. A portion of the troops, desirous to compli- 
ment their Generals, undertook to serenade Taylor, and, after him, 
Wool. The movement was scarcely military, but Taylor overlooked 
this, and is even said to have expressed his thanks to the serenaders. 
Wool, however, ordered them all under arrest, for breaking the 
regulations of the camp. Notwithstanding his rigid notions, however, 
he is generally beloved by his men. 



194 



JOHN E. WOOL. 



On the return of Taylor to the United States, Wool succeeded to 
the command of the army of the Rio Grande, in which capacity he 
remained until the peace. 

For his services at the battle of Buena Vista, Wool received the 
brevet of Maior-General. 





STEPHEN W. KEARNEY. 



HE conquest of California 
was the work, partly of Fre- 
mont and partly of Kearney, 
The latter was born in New- 
ark, New Jersey, about the 
year 1793, and was pursu- 
ing his studies at Columbia 
College, New York, when 
the war of 1812 broke out. 
He immediately left the in- 
stitution, and entered the 
army as First-Lieutenant of the thirteenth infantry, then commanded 
by Wool. Under this heroic leader he marched to the Canada fron- 
tier ; fought at Queenstown heights ; and was taken prisoner with 
Scott and other officers. Being soon after exchanged, he rejoinec 
his old regiment, and served through the war with credit. 

195 




196 STEPHEN W. KEARNEY. 

On the conclusion of peace, Kearney remained in the army. The 
next twenty years of his life were spent chiefly at frontier posts, 
but the time was not wasted, for Kearney being a close student, was 
daily perfecting himself in the knowledge of his profession. He soon 
acquired the reputation of being one of the most rigid disciplinarians 
and best tacticians in the service. His coolness in difficult emer- 
gencies passed into a proverb. No man could be braver when 
danger was abroad. His rise was slow, however, the result of a 
long peace. A Major in 1824, he became a Lieutenant-Colonel in 
1833, and a full Colonel in 1836. When the first regiment of dra- 
goons was organized in 1833, he was charged with its discipline, a 
task which he executed in the ablest manner ; indeed, the cavalry 
arm of the service may be considered as indebted to Kearney for 
all that it is. He prepared a system of tactics, instructed the 
officers, and inspired the corps with his own heroism. 

In 1839, when a frontier war was anticipated, Kearney was 
ordered to Fort Wayne, to overawe the Cherokees. He had now 
under his command, for the first time, a full regiment of ten compa- 
nies. He subsequently made many long marches through the 
various Indian territories, acquiring a fund of valuable information 
for the government, and disseminating a wholesome respect for the 
flag which he represented. He had, during the years 1835 and 1836, 
penetrated to the hea-d of the Mississippi, and to the Rocky Moun- 
tains, on which occasions, also, he had left a strong impression 
among the savages of the power and energy of the United States. 
The Indians called him the " horse-chief of the long knives.'^ These 
journeys materially assisted to improve the condition and discipline 
of his dragoons. 

When the war with Mexico began, the President determined to 
send an expedition against New Mexico and California, and 
Kearney was selected to command the troops raised for this enter- 
prise. Accordingly, he assembled his forces, principally consisting 
of volunteers, at Fort Leavenworth, in June, 1846, and, on the 30th 
of that month, began his march for Sante Fe, at the head of about 
sixteen hundred men. For six weeks he traversed the vast wilder- 
ness which stretches between the last civilized settlement on the 
Missouri, and the first one of a similar character in New Mexico. 
He reached his destination in August, without opposition. Having 
formally taken possession of Santa Fe, he proceeded to declare New 
Mexico annexed to the United States. He next drew up a form of 
government for it, and superintended the election of a Governor and 
jwoper authorities. He now considered his work in this province 



STEPHEN W. KEARNEY. 197 

finished, and prepared to advance on California, pursuant to his 
instructions, only waiting for the arrival of Colonel Price from Fort 
Leavenworth, with the thousand volunteers, whom Kearney had 
left behmd in his eagerness to advance. At last, on the 25th of 
September, he moved from Santa Fe for California, with about four 
hundred dragoons, but, after having marched one hundred and 
seventy-five miles, he met an express, with the news of Fremont's 
conquest of that country. He now sent back most of his little army, 
retaining only one hundred dragoons as an escort. 

When Kearney reached the river Gila, in California, he learned 
that the province had revolted, and that the Americans had been 
expelled from Los Angelos, the principal city in the south. On the 
2nd of December he arrived at the first settlement in California, where 
the news of the insurrection was confirmed. Four days afterwards, 
he fell in with a body of the enemy, somewhat superior in numbers, 
whom, after a sharp action, he totally routed. In this skirmish, 
Kearney was wounded severely, and would have been killed, but 
for Lieutenant Emory, who shot his antagonist just as he was about 
to make a second thrust with the lance. Kearney advanced about 
nine miles, when, being assailed by the Californians again, he seized 
a neighboring hill, and held it until Commodore Stockton, four days 
after, sent him a reinforcement of seventy-five marines, and one 
hundred seamen. In these two skirmishes Kearney fought under 
great disadvantages, his men being mounted on broken down 
mules, while the enemy had superb horses. Two days after being 
succored, Kearney reached San Diego, where he found Commodore 
Stockton. 

Having ascertained that the insurgents were still at Los Angelos, 
where they numbered seven hundred, under the command of General 
Flores, the two American leaders resolved to march, with their com- 
bined forces, and dislodge him. Accordingly, with about seven 
hundred men, and six pieces of artillery, they left San Diego, and 
proceeded to meet the enemy, the united force being under com- 
mand of General Kearney. On the Sth of .January Kearney came 
up with the Californians, who, with four guns, were drawn up on a 
height on the opposite side of the river. He instantly formed his troope 
in order of battle, and placing himself dauntlessly at their head, 
forded the stream, stormed the height, and gained a complete 
victory. The action lasted about an hour and a half. By the fol- 
lowing day, however, the Californians had recovered their spirits, 
and, on Kearney's resuming his advance, showed themselves in his 
front and on his flanks. When he had descended from the heights, 

M — R* 



198 STEPHEN W. KEARNEY. 

and reached the plains of the Mesa, the artillery opened upon him, 
and soon after, concentrating their columns, the CaUfornians furi- 
ously assailed his left flank. Their charge, however, was decisively 
repulsed, on which they took to flight. The next day Kearney 
entered los Angelos in triumph. 

A difjculty now arose between Commodore Stockton and General 
Kearney in reference to the civil authority in California, Kearney 
produced the commission of the President of the United States, 
authorizing him to act as Commander of the country and Governor ; 
and claimed submission from Stockton in consequence of this docu- 
ment. Stockton, however, asserted that, as the country had been 
conquered before Kearney's arrival, a condition of aflfairs had arisen 
which the President had not foreseen, and in consequence, it could 
not be expected that he and Fremont, the real conquerors, should be 
deprived of their power by an authority virtually abrogated. Fre- 
mont took the same view of the question as Stockton, and refused 
obedience to Kearney. Unfortunately, however, Kearney was Fre- 
mont's superior ofiicer, and hence entitled to the latter's obedience, 
irrespective of the special commission. Of this he was soon remind- 
ed, for when Commodore Shubrick arrived with the California volun- 
teers, Kearney, finding himself with a superior force, deposed Fre- 
inont, ordered him to the United States, and, on his arrival there^ 
placed him under arrest. 

Kearney did not continue long in California after the arrival of 
Commodore Shubrick. He remained, however, until he considered 
the province pacified and secure from further insurrection. He 
then returned to the United States, accompanied by Fremont. 

Firm, skilful, and brave as a lion, Kearney is one of the most 
valuable officers in the line of the army. His country acknowledged 
this, through the President, by conferring on him, ou the 30th of 
June, 1846, the rank of a full Brigadier. 

Kearney died on the 31st of October, 1848. 





JOHN C. FREMONT. 



HE prominent part played by Fre- 
mont in the conquest of California 
entitles him to a place in this series. 
He was ^rn in South Carolina, in 
the year 1811. In 1838, was appoint- 
ed a Second-Lieutenant in the corps 
of topographical engineers, and from 
that period up to the Mexican war, 
was principally engaged in expedi- 
X^^"^ tions to explore the country around 
the Rocky Mountains. He visited Oregon and subsequently Cali- 
fornia on this duty, and published two volumes of great interest, the 
result of his discoveries 

199 




200 JOHN C. FREMONT 

When the Mexican war began, Fremont was engaged, under or 
ders from the War Department, in exploring a new and shorter route 
from the western base of the Rocky Mountains to the mouth of the 
Columbia. In fulfilling his task it became necessary to enter Cali- 
fornia, De Castro, Commandant-General of that province, aware of 
the threatened hostilities between Mexico and the United States, 
became suspicious that Fremont, under cover of a scientific expedi- 
tion, intended to excite the iVmerican settlers to revolt, and accord- 
ingly he displayed such a hostile attitude that Fremont, taking posi- 
tion on a mountain overlooking Monterey, at the distance of thirty 
miles, prepared to die, if necessary, for the honor of his flag. From 
the 7th to the 10th of March, 1846, Fremont remained fortified here, 
but finding De Castro did not attack him, finally continued his march 
towards Oregon. Some of his men desiring to remain in the province, 
he consented to their discharge, but refused to enlist others in their 
places, so anxious was he not to compromise the United States. He 
made but little progress, however, in consequence of the difficulties 
of the country, and by the middle of May he had only reached the 
greater Tlamath Lake, lying just within the southern boundary of 
Oregon. Here he unexpectedly found his further advance obstructed 
by the snow which still lingered on the mountains, and also by the 
Indians wlio had been excited against him by emissaries from De 
Castro. In this emergency he came to the bold resolution of retracing 
his steps and subjugating California. When he adopted this deter- 
mination his whole force numbered less than sixty men ; yet with 
this army he undertook the conquest of fifty thousand souls I 

Other considerations assisted to induce the return of Fremont. 
De Castro, it was said, was pursuing him at the head of five hundred 
men, and comprehended in his scheme of vengeance the American 
settlers in California. Fremont considered that the best way to 
save these innocent emigrants, as well as himself, was to assume a 
bold front, and, by a rapid countermarch, unite with his countrymen, 
and face the foe. As* yet, no intelligence of the war had reached 
Fremont. He proniptly put his heroic design into execution. On the 
11th of June he cut off a valuable convoy from De Castro's camp, 
and four days afterwards, surprised the military post of Sonoma. 
He next pushed on for the valley of the Sacramento, to arouse the 
American settlers there ; but he had scarcely reached his destination, 
when he was overtaken by an express, announcing that De Castro 
was in full march on Sonoma, with the intention of re-capturing it. 
Fremont immediately made a forced journey to the threatened point, 
where he arrived in time to cut off the vanguard of the enemy, by 



JOHN C. FREMONT. 201 

which bold stroke he disconcerted the attack. The country on the 
north side of the Bay of San Francisco being now cleared of the 
foe, Fremont assembled the settlers of the vicinity at Sonoma, on the 
5th of July, and recommended them to declare an independent com- 
monwealth. His advice was taken^ and himself chosen Governor. 

Fremont now determined to pursue De Castro, who had astab- 
hshed a camp at Santa Clara, an intrenched post on the southern 
Bide of the Bay of San Francisco. The distance around the bay was 
about one hundred miles. On the 6th of July, Fremont set forth, 
accompanied by one hundred and sixty mounted riflemen. As the 
Americans advanced, the Californians fled. De Castro retreated on 
los Angelos, the seat of the Governor-General of the province, 
distant four hundred miles. Thither Fremont determined to follow 
him. His resolution was fortified by learning that war had broken 
out between Mexico and the United States ; that Commodore Stockton 
had arrived on the coast with a fleet; and that the flag of the United 
States was already flying over Monterey, which had surrendered to 
Stockton. At Fremont's suggestion, the settlers immediately substi- 
tuted for their flag of independence, that of America. A junction 
was formed with Stockton, and the pursuit of De Castro renewed. 

On the 12th of August, the combined forces of Stockton 
and Fremont entered los Angelos without resistance, the Governor 
Pico, and the Commandant-General, De Castro, having fled still 
further south. Stockton now took possession of the province as a 
conquered territory, and appointed Fremont Governor, For a few 
months the utmost quiet prevailed on the part of the subjugated 
Californians, but finally, in November, they rose in insurrection, 
drove the Americans from los Angelos, and resumed the government 
of the country. Their triumph, however, was not of long duration. 
Stockton, who had sailed for Monterey, immediately returned, and 
forming a junction with General Kearney, who arrived at this crisis 
from New Mexico, completely defeated the insurgents in two battles 
of the 8th and 9th of January, 1847. Fremont was not present in 
either of these actions. He had been absent since September, at 
Monterey, employed in enlisting and organizing men, and was now 
on his way to los Angelos, at the head of four hundred and fifty 
recruits. His journey, being performed in the dead of winter, was 
full of privations. On Christmas day, in crossitig the Santa Barbara 
mountains, he lost from one hundred and fifty to two huiidred horses. 
When within a short distance of the capita!, he met the retreating 
army of the insurgents, and, ignorant of Stockton's refusal to grant 
them terms, concluded with them a capitulation. On the 14th of 



202 JOHN G. FREMONT. 

January he entered los Angeles. He now first met Kearney, and 
began that series of mistakes which finally led to his trial by a court 
martial, and his retirement from the service. 

In the sketch of Kearney, we have explained the origin of the 
difficulty between him and Frem^pnt. The offence of the latter in 
refusing to obey his superior officer, was of the most glaring kind in the 
eye of discipline ; but the circumstances in which Fremont found 
himself, were so pecuhar, that his insubordination has some excuse. 
He was removed from his post of Governor by Kearney, as soon as 
the arrival of reinforcements gave the latter the ascendancy ; and 
subsequently, when the General returned to the United States, 
Fremont accompanied the escort. On reaching Fort Leavensworth, 
Kearney placed his junior under arrest. A court martial was 
promptly summoned to meet at Washington city, for the trial of 
Fremont. The result was his conviction. The court sentenced him 
to be suspended from the service, but the President, in consequence 
of the mitigating circumstances of the case, remitted the punishment 
Fremont, however, declined to accept the clemency of the executive, 
declaring, that as he had committed no offence, he required no pardon. 
He accordingly resigned. 

He had attained the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in the new regi- 
ment of mounted rifles, before his retirement. This promotion was 
owing, in part, to his services, but in part, also, to the influence of 
Senator Benton, his father-in-law. The elevation of so young an 
officer, from a Lieutenancy to a Lieutenant-Colonelcy, overleaping at 
a single step the intermediate grades, gave great offence in tlie army, 
especially to the numerous seniors of Fremont, who, by this promo- 
tion, considered themselves aggrieved. 

Whatever opinion may be formed of his resignation, or of the 
exact amount of his culpability towards Kearney, all men must 
unite in admiring the spirit and ability which he exhibited in Cali- 
fornia. In undertaking the conquest of that province, at the head 
of less than sixty men, he displayed the attributes of a true hero 
Such, we are confident, will be the verdict of posterity 




DORIPIIAII CROSSnfO THE DESERT OF DEATH. 



A. W. DONIPHAN, 



HE march of Doniphan from Santa 
Fe to Chihuahua, and the victory of 
Sacramento which attended it, have 
been compared, and not inaptly, to 
the celebrated retreat of Xenophon 
with the ten thousand. But the ex- 
ploit of the American surpasses that 
of the Greek. The one was a pro 
fessed soldier, at the head of veteraii 
troops ; while the other was a mere 
civilian, fortuitously in command of 
a few volunteers. Both traversed 
distant and inhospitable regions; both 
penetrated hundreds of miles through a hostile population : but the 
march of the ancient was that of a fugitive, while the progress of the 
modern was everywhere that of a conqueror ! 

Doniphan was born in the year 1807 ; but of his early life we 

203 







204 A. W. DONIPHAN. 

know little. At the time tiie Mexican war broke out he was a law- 
yer of eminence in St. Louis, Missouri. Inspired, like many of his 
fellow-citizens at that time, with a sudden thirst for military adven- 
ture, he offered himself as Colonel of a regiment of volunteers, 
raised to accompany Kearney's expedition against Santa Fe. His 
almost gigantic stature, his affable manners, and the respect in 
which his abilities were held procured for him the command he 
sought, and, on the 30th of June, 1846, he set oui with Kearney for 
Fort Leavensworth, his regiment numbering about a thousand strong. 
It was composed generally of young men, most of them from the 
best families of the state, who sought to gratify the restless longings 
of their natures, in the wild adventure which the conquest of New 
Mexico promised to afford. This impulse of a high organization 
has been common to all ages. The spirit which actuated the Mis- 
souri volunteers was the same that propelled the Normans upon 
France ; that sent forth the Spaniards of the fifteenth centnry on 
voyages of discovery ; that annually moves thousands in the direc- 
tion of the setting sun, there to seek a virgin soil, and exult in the 
perils of border Kfe. Doniphan himself was but the type of this 
class. After the astonishing victories gained in his expedition, it 
might have been supposed that neither he nor his men would have 
been willing to lay down their arms ; but the thirst for excitement 
which had impelled them, had been exhausted m a thousand perils; 
and they returned to private life not without a certain zest perhaps 
for its quiet and repose, like men who, after long buffetting a wintry 
tempest, gladly find themselves housed at last. 

In the narrative of the Mexican war, which precedes these 
sketches, we have already detailed at sufficient length the journey .of 
Doniphan. The insertion of his own graphic, but modest account 
of the battle of Sacramento would, however, seem to be due to the 
hero, for it is eminently characteristic. This wonderful victory was 
achieved on the 28th of February, 1847, with a force of but nine hun- 
dred and twenty-four effective men, against more than four thousand 
Mexicans, half of whom were regulars. Having, early after sunrise, 
formed his troops in expectation of a battle, by arranging the long 
train of wagons in four columns, between which the soldiers were 
placed for the purpose of masking them, he advanced in the direction 
of the foe, and, when within three miles of him, made a reconnoisance 

" This we could easily do," says Doniphan in his despatch, " for 
the road led through an open prairie valley between the sterile 
mountains. The Pass of the Sacramento is formed by a point of the 
mountains on our right, their left extending into the valley or plain 



A. W. DONIPHAN. 205 

SO as to narrow the valley to about one and a half miles. On our 
left was a deep, dry, sandy channel of a creek, and between these 
points the plain rises to sixty feet abruptly. This rise is in the form 
of a crescent, the convex part being to the north of our forces. 

"On the right, from the point of mountains, a narrow part of the 
plain extends north one and a half miles farther than on the left. 
The main road passes down the centre of the valley and across the 
crescent, near the left or dry branch. The Sacramento rises in the 
mountains on the right, and the road falls on to it about one mile 
below the battle-field or intrenchment of the enemy. We ascertained 
that the enemy had one battery of four guns, two nine and two ^ix- 
pounders, on the point of the mountain on our right, at a good ele- 
vation to sweep the plain, and at the point where the mountains 
extended farthest into the plain, 

" On our left they had another battery on an elevation command- 
ing the road, and three intrenchments of two six-pounders,*and on 
the brow of the crescent near the centre another of two six and two 
four and six culverins, or rampart pieces, mounted on carriages ; and 
on the crest of the hill or ascent between the batteries, and the right 
and left, they had twenty-seven redoubts dug and thrown up, ex- 
tending at short intervals across the whole ground. In these their 
infentr^'' were placed, and were entirely protected. Their cavalry 
was drawn up in front of the redoubts in the intervals, four deep, and 
in front of the redoubts two deep, so as to mask them as far as 
practicable. 

" When we had arrived within one and a half miles of the intrench- 
ments along the main road, we advanced the cavalry still farther, 
and suddenly diverged with the columns to the right, so as to gain 
the narrow part of the ascent on our right, which the enemy disco- 
vering endeavored to prevent by moving forward with one thousand 
cavalry and four pieces of cannon in their rear, masked by them. 
Our movements were so rapid that we gained the elevation with 
our forces and the advance of our wagons in time to form before 
they arrived within reach of our guns. The enemy halted, and we 
advanced the head of our column within twelve hundred yards of 
them, so as to let our wagons attain the high lands and form as be- 
fore. 

" We now commenced the action by a brisk fire from our battery, 
and the enemy unmasked and commenced also ; our fires proved 
effective at this distance, killing fifteen men, wounding several more, 
and disabling one of the enemy's guns. We had two men slightly 
wounded, and several horses and mules killed. The enemy then 
M — s 



206 



A, W. DONIPHAN. 



slowly retreated behind their works in some confusion, and we re 
sumed our march in the former order, still diverging more to the right 
to avoid their battery on our left, and their strongest redoubts, which 
were on the left near where the road passes. After marching as far 
as we safely could, without coming within range of their heavy bat- 




Doniphan's charge at Sacramento. 



tery on our right. Captain Weiglitman, of the artillery, was ordered 
to charge with the two twelve-pound howitzers, to be supported by 
the cavalry under Captains Reid, Parsons and Hudson. 

" The Howitzers charged at speed, and were gallantly sustained 
by Captain Reid ; but, by some misunderstanding, my order was not 
given to the other two companies. Captain Hudson, anticipating my 
order, charged in time to give ample support to the howitzers. Cap- 
lain Parsons, at the same moment, came to me and asked permission 
for his company to charge the redoubts immediately to the left of 
Captain Weightman, which he did very gallantly. The remainder 
of the two battalions of the first regiment were dismounted during 
the cavalry charge, and following rapidly on foot, while Major 
Clarive advanced as fast as practicable with the remainder of the 



A. W. DONIPHAN. 207 

battery, we charged their redoubts from right to left, with a brisk 
and deadly fire of riflemen, while Major Clarke opened a rapid and 
well-directed fire on a column of cavalry attempting to pass to our 
left so as to attack the wagons and our rear. 

" The fire was so well directed as to force them to fall back ; and 
our riflemen, with the cavalry and howitzers, cleared fhe parapets 
after an obstinate resistance. Our forces advanced to the very brink 
of their redoubts and attacked the enemy with their sabres. When 
the redoubts were cleared, and the batteries in the centre and on our 
left were silenced, the main battery on our right still continued to 
pour in a constant and heavy fire, as it had done during the heat of 
the engagement ; but as the whole fate of the battle depended upon 
carrying the redoubts and centre battery, this one on the right re- 
mained unattacked, and the enemy had rallied there five hundred 
strong. 

" Major Clarke was directed to commence a heavy fire upon it. 
Lieutenant-Colonels Mitchell and Jackson, commanding the first 
battahon, were ordered to remount and charge the battery on the 
left, while Major Gilpin passed the second battalion on foot up the 
rough ascent of the mountain on the opposite side. The fire of our 
battery was so eff'ective as to completely silence theirs, and the rapid 
advance of our column put them to flight over the mountains in great 
confusion. 

" The loss of the enemy was his entire artillery, ten wagons, and 
about three hundred killed and the same number wounded, many 
of whom have since died, and forty prisoners. The field was lite- 
rally covered with, the dead and wounded from our artillery and the 
unerring fire of our riflemen. Night put a stop to the carnage, the 
battle having commenced about three o'clock. Our loss was one 
killed, one mortally wounded, and seven so wounded as to recover 
without any loss of limbs. I cannot speak too highly of the coolness, 
gallantry and bravery of the officers and men under my command. 
I was ably sustained by field officers Lieutenant-Colonels Mitchell 
and Jackson of the first battalion, and Major Gilpin of the second 
battalion ; and Major Clarke and his artillery acted nobly, and did 
the most eflfective service in every part of the field. It is abundantly 
shown, in the charge made by Captain Weightman, with the section 
of howitzers, that they can be used in any charge of cavalry with 
great eff'ect. Much has been said, and justly said, of the gallantry 
of our artillery, unlimbering within two hundred and fifty yards of 
the enemy at Palo Alto ; but how much more daring was the charge 



tos 



A. W. DOJflPHAN. 



of CaptaM Weightman, when he unlimbered within fifty yatds '6i 
the redoubts of the enemy !" 

The battle of Sacramento was fought immediately in front of Chi- 
huahua, and the next day the Americans entered that city in triumph. 
When we consider that this victory was won against four tiities the 
numbers of Doniphan, and that his soldiers were nearly all rolun- 
teers, it appears to be scarcely less remarkable than Buena Vista ^ 
It must be remembered also that the conquerors at Sacramento kneW 
nothing of the success of Taylor, who was hundreds of miles distant, 
and had only defeated Santa Anna the preceding week. The conse- 
quences resulting from this victory were not so great, nor was the 
inequality of the two armies in it quite so excessive as at Bueha 
Vista ; but it is nevertheless a victory that recalls, in all their vivid- 
ness, the heroic ages of antiquity. 

The volunteers being enhsted for twelve months only, were, oh 
their return to the United States, mustered out of the service. Doni- 
phan retired to private life simultaneously with his soldiers. Resu- 
ming the quiet routine of his profession he appeared to forget that 
he had ever been a hero. But history, engraving his deeds on her 
tablets with a pen of iron, will preserve his name to latest posterity ; 
and often, in future generations, his wonderful expedition will be 
cited as a proof of what Americans were " in the brave days of old.*' 



IS| 



M 





aKPtJLSE OF THE MEXICAN LANCERS AT PALO ALTO. 



SAMUEL H. WALKER. 



HE Mexican war brought into public 
notice a class of men, who, though cel- 
ebrated in Texas, and even on our 
south-western frontier, were less known 
in the northern and eastern states. — 
These were the rangers, a species of 
scouts. Their most prominent leaders 
were Walker, Hays, and Carson. This 
series would be incomplete without ^ 
notice of at least one of these heroes. 
We shall select Walker, both on account 
of his superior renown, and his un- 
timely death. 

Samuel Hamilton Walker was a native of Prince George qounty, 
Maryland, where he was born in the year 1815. At an early period 
of the Florida war he enlisted as a private in the army, and was 
one of Colonel Harney's picked men ; for with that daring soldier 
his boldness and energ} soon rendered him a favorite. At the closd 
M — N* 27 809 




m 



itlO SAMUEL H. WALKER. 

of the war he repaired to Texas and enlisted in the rangers com- 
manded by Colonel Harney. In 1844, with fourteen others, he at- 
tacked and defeated eighty Camanche Indians, leaving thirty-three 
of their number dead on the field. During the battle Walker was 
pinned to the ground by the spear of a savage, but after the action 
it was found no vital part had been touched. He was also one of 
Fisher's expedition against Mier ; and being captured, was marched 
to the castle of Perote with other prisoners. During the journey 
they suffered incredible privations, and finally made their escape ; 
but, being re-taken, were decimated, those to be shot being selected 
by lot. Walker was one of those who drew a white bean. He 
subsequently made a more successful attempt at flight, with eight 
others ; and reaching Texas, after almost incredible sufferings, en- 
tered the revenue service of that state. 

When Taylor marched to the Rio Grande, Walker, at the head of 
a company of rangers, offered his services to the United States and 
ifa.s accepted. Being left to keep open the communications between 
Fort Brown and Point Isabel, he brought intelligence to Taylor, on 
the 30th of April, 1846, of the intention of the Mexicans to surround 
that General's camp. This information led to the famous march on 
Point Isabel. When the bombardment of Fort Brown began, Walker 
volunteered to penetrate through the Mexican army and bring intel- 
ligence from the besieged, a duty which he executed with his accus- 
tomed skill and energy. In the battles of the 9th and 10th of May 
he performed signal service, and was mentioned in such flattering 
terms by General Taylor, that the President, on the formation of the 
regiment of mounted rifles, gave him unsolicited a Captain's com- 
mission. 

He now repaired to the United States, where he enlisted about 
two hundred and fifty men, principally from Maryland and Ken- 
tucky. With these he greatly distinguished himself in keeping the 
guerrillas at bay and opening the communications between Vera 
Cruz and the capital. One of his most brilliant actions was at Hoya, 
on the 20th of September, 1847. He did not long survive this. On 
the 8th of October, at the battle of Huamantla, he received a mortal 
shot, and died in about thirty minutes afterwards. When he fell, his 
men burst into tears, so greatly was he beloved by them. No more 
heroic soul adorned the war ! 

The personal appearance of Walker was mild and unpretending. 
He was modest, like most truly great men* 




L.E/>'.C «; 



;XA 1 EL KKV. 



WINFIELD SCOTT 



F we consider only the splendor of his mili- 
tary achievements, Winfield Scott is the 
greatest General the United States has yet 
produced. He may be said to belong to 
two generations, and to have won two repu- 
tations entirely distinct. In his youth he 
^ conquered the veterans o£ Great Britain at 

^ ,„,^.-^_f^3?dfci^-^- Chippewa and Lundy's Lane ; in his old age 

'^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^"^^^^^^^^^^^ he defeated the myriads of Mexico, and 
entered the Capital of the Montezumas in triumph. Hundreds born 
in the last century yet live, who can remember the astonishm^eiit 
with which in 1814, they hailed the exploits of the then stripling 
General , and hundreds will survive to tell, in the next century, that 
they fought by his side, when he was grey-headed, at Churubusco, 
Chapultepec and San Cosmo. Cotemporary witnesses will thus carry 

211 




212 WINPIELD SCOTT. 

his renown through nearly twice the usual term allotted to mau 
Nor will his fame diminish when his last co temporary shall have 
died ; for true glory, like the shade of the Brocken, grows more 
colossal as it recedes ! 

The military achievements of his youth were gained principally 
by daring, resolution, and tenacity of purpose. It is true that he 
introduced the strictest discipline into his brigade, and that he was 
not destitute of military knowledge ; but the profound science, the 
skill in combination which have distinguished his career in Mexico, 
were but little perceptible in the war of 1812. The soubriquet then 
bestowed on him of the " fighting General," expresses the verdict 
of that generation. His chief quality, at that day, was his readiness 
for combat and his recklessness as to odds. He gained the battle of 
Chippewa against superior numbers, with his single brigade. At 
Lundy's Lane he began the attack against overwhelming forces, and 
maintained the contest unflinchingly for two hours without assist- 
ance. He was subsequently reinforced, when the battle ended 
trium.phantly for the Americans. On both these occasions it was 
his impetuosity of attack, combined with his resolute front, which 
won the day. He united the French gallantry in a charge, with 
the English obstinacy vn resisting it. '' Hard pounding, this, gentle- 
men, but we will see who can pound the longest," said Wellington 
at Waterloo. It was this tenacity of purpose which was the secret 
of Scott's success in the war of 1S12. The quality was the more 
valuable then, because it was a novelty in the American service. 
The imbecile Generals of the earlier years of that war, the Hulls, 
Dearborns, and Wilkinsons, were haunted by the thought of defeat 
wherever they went, and thought more of securing a means of escape 
than of planning a victory. Scott, on the contrary, held that an Ame- 
rican soldier should never contemplate the possibihty of a repulse. 

In this Mexican campaign we see equal resolution, equal obsti- 
nancy of purpose, but far greater skill. The capture of Vera Cruz, 
with the loss of but two officers and a few private soldiers, will be 
referred to in history as one of the most astonishing "exploits of the 
century. The city might have been taken sooner, if assault had 
been resorted to ; but how fearful would have been the slaughter ! 
By girdling it with trenches, Scott secured its fall with the sacrifice 
of comparatively little blood ; and the town, with its impregnable 
castle, like a strong man in the embraces of an Anaconda, sank . 
exhausted. So, in the valley of Mexico, the skill with which he 
turned the approaches to the capital on the east, is only equalled by 
his boldness in advancing when his communications were cut ofL 



WINFIELD SCOTT. 213 

His confidence appalled the Mexicans as much as his strategy 
disconcerted them. 

Had Santa Anna been an ordinary General, Scott, on crossing to 
.San Antonio, would have found the road to the city almost unde- 
fended ; and would have gained an easy entrance to the capital. 
But the Mexican commander had provided even for this contingency. 
Yet, as he considered it a remote one, his works on the Acapulco 
road were less strong than those in front of El Penon. This alone 
saved Scott. It is questionable, even, if he could have carried the 
gates in which the Acapulco road terminates ; he seems to have 
doubted it, at least ; for he turned aside and attacked the San Cosmo 
and Belen gates, which were not so impregnable. It is not certain 
that he would have forced an entrance even here, if the enemy had 
not expected him at the southern gates, where, accordingly, the 
mass of the Mexican artillery was collected. Even after the fall of 
Chapultepec, this delusion on the part of Santa Anna continued^ 
that officer still believing that the assault on the San Cosmo and 
Belen gates was a feint, and that the real attack was to be on the 
south, where Twiggs, to maintain the error, thundered incessantly 
with his guns. Mexico fell, therefore, because her Generals were 
out-manoeuvred. The bravery of our troops would, perhaps, have 
been thrown away if it had not been guided by the skill of the 
Commander-in-chief. 

Scott was born near Petersburg, Va., on the 13th of January, 1786. 
His ancestors on both sides were respectable. He lost his father 
while yet a child, and his other parent when he was not quite seven- 
teen. He had been destined for the bar, and for this purpose had 
pursued the usual academical studies. Having spent a year at the 
■Richmond High School, he was transferred to William and Mary 
College, where he continued more than eighteen months, chiefly 
occupied in legal studies. He next spent a year in the office of 
David Robertson, Esq., after which he was admitted to practice 
at the bar. The competition in his native state induced him to turn 
his eyes abroad, and he visited Charleston, S. C, with the intention 
of settling there ; but this purpose was frustrated by learning that 
he could not practice in that city until after a year's residence. He, 
therefore, returned to Virginia. He had never, however, entertained 
any very strong liking for the dry technicalities, the assiduous labor, 
and the years of unrewarded toil that are inevitable to the legal 
profession. He believed himself better qualified to succeed as a 
soldier. Fortune soon interposed to assist him. The attack on the 
frigate Chesapeake had aroused the indignation of the nation ; and 



WINFIELD SCOTT. 

a large force of volunteers had been called out. Among these was' 
the Petersburg troop of horse, in which Scott hastened to enroll 
himself His soldierly person, his evident taste for arms, and his 
miUtary abilities which already began to display themselves, attracted 
the attention of influential friends, among others of the Hon. William 
B Giles and as Congress had just authorized an increase of the 
army, that gentleman asked one of the new commissions for Scott. 
Accordingly, on the 3rd of May, 1808, Scott was created a Captain 
of light artillery. 

He immediately proceeded to recruit his company, and, in 1809, 
was ordered to Louisiana. Here he made himself an enemy in 
Wilkinson, by freely stating his opinion respecting some portions of 
that General's conduct, and the consequence was that Hampton, the 
successor of Wilkinson, became also prejudiced against the young 
Captain. It is probable that Scott was indiscreet. In the end he 
was brought to trial before a court martial, charged with keeping 
back his men's pay, and with being guilty of unofficer-like conduct 
by calling Wilkinson a traitor. He was found guilty and suspended 
for one year. The only important accusation was the first ; and 
that arose from Scott's negligence in not taking proper receipts. 
The whole amount of the alleged delinquency was but fifty dollars. 
Even the court, which was manifestly hostile to him, acquitted Scott 
of all fraudulent intention. The inhabitants of the neighborhood 
shewed their estimate of the case by tendering Scott a public dinner, 
which he accepted. The year of his suspension he spent in Virginia 
occupied in the study of his profession : in one sense, therefore, his 
temporary dismissal proved fortunate; since it fitted him more 
speedily than he otherwise could have been, for the responsibilities 
of the approaching contest with Great Britain. 

In June, 1812, war was declared. Scott's sentence had only ex- 
pired towards the close of 1811 ; yet his suspension did not affect his 
position; for, within eight months, in July, 1812, he was made Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel, oveHeaping the intermediate grade of Major. He 
immediately proceeded to the Niagara frontier, in commg^nd of the 
companies of Towson and Barker ; and was stationed at Black Rock 
to protect the navy-yard established there. It was while here that 
he detached Towson, with a portion of his company, to assist Lieu- 
tenant Elliott of the navy in cutting out two British armed brigs 
from under the guns of Fort Erie. This was on the 8th of October, 
1812. A few days afterwards. General Van Renssalaer made his 
unfortunate attack on Queenstown. Scott arrived by a forced march 
\o participate in this battle, and was one of the few who succeeded 



WINFIELD SCOTT. 215 

ill crossing into Canada. He fought at the head of about five hun- 
dred men, with great intrepidity, and for a long time after resistance 
seemed vain. Having finally surrendered he was carried to Quebec 
with his troops. Here, being in the cabin of a transport, he heard 
an uproar on deck, and, hastening up, found the British officers 
mustering his men, and separating from the rest such as confessed 
themselves to be Irishmen, with the intention of sending them to 
England to be tried for bearing arms against their country. Twenty- 
three had been selected when Scott appeared ; and there were at 
least forty more liable to be taken. He immediately ordered the 
remainder of the men not to answer questions, which effectually 
concealed their origin and frustrated the aim of the enemy : then, in 
spite of the threats of the British officers, he addressed the twenty- 
three selected, telling them not to be alarmed, and pledging himself 
that the United States would make their cause her own, and retaliate 
for any injury they might suffer. He kept his word, moreover ; and 
tnough the men were carried to England, the attitude assumed in 
their behalf by the United States was so threatening and firm, that 
the contemplated proceedings against them were finally dropped. 
The prisoners returned to their adopted country, in 1815, after an 
absence of three years ; for so long had the controversy been pro- 
longed. By one of those coincidences which sometimes make real 
life more improbable than fiction, Scott happened to be passing 
along the quay at New York, when they landed, and being recog- 
nized, was greeted with loud and continued cheers. 

Scott was not long in being exchanged after his capture, and in 
May, 1813, joined the army at Niagara, with the titular rank of 
Adjutant-General. On the 27th of that month he participated in 
the attack on Fort George, leading the forlorn hope, and scaling the 
bank on landing, in face of the enemy's bayonets. When the fort 
fell he hauled down the British flag with his own hands. He after- 
wards pursued the enemy for several miles, and would probably 
have captured most of the fugitives, but that he was recalled by his 
superior. General Boyd, at the very moment he had overtaken the 
British rear. Scott could not conceal his chagrin. He had already 
neglected two successive orders sent him to return, saying to the 
messengers, "Your Generaldoes not know I have the enemy in my 
power; in twenty minutes I shall capture his whole force." The 
ardor of the young soldier was wiser, as subsequent events proved, 
than the temerity of his old superiors ; and the war never prospered 
until he, and others like him, had supplanted the imbecile old Mar- 
tinets who were, for two years, the curse of the army. 



?1$ WINFIELD SCOTT. 

In July, 1S12, Scott was elevated tp. the comxnand of a double 
regiment, on which occasion he resigned his place as Adjutant-General. 
In the autumn of that year, Wilkinson undertook his descent of the 
St. Lawrence, which ended so disgracefully. Scott, at that time in 
command of Fort George, was eager to participate in the expedition, 
and having obtained permission, joined the main army at Ogdens- 
burg on the 6th of November. He was placed in the advance, and 
consequently was not present at the battle of Chrystler's Fields, 
which was fought by the rear, on the 11th of November. The 
indecisive character of this conflict, the illness of Wilkinson, and the 
failure of Hampton to reach the rendezvous at St. Regis in season, 
induced the Commander-in chief to abandon the enterprise : a most 
unfortunate decision, since Scott, on the very day Chrystler's Fields 
was fought, had routed the British at Loop-Hole Creek, and was 
confident that with a regiment of dragoons and a flying battery, he 
could have pushed on and entered Montreal in triumph. But, though 
forced to retire by the commands of Wilkinson, Scott had won the 
plaudits of the country by his daring bravery in this campaign. 
Accordingly, in March, 1814, he was elevated to the rank of Briga- 
dier-General, and made second in rank on the Niagara frontier. 

The campaign that followed was the most brilliant of the war. 
In another place we have described it at length. Preparatory to it, 
Scott thoroughly drilled his brigade : and the beneficial consequences 
were seen at the battle of Chippewa. Here many of his men met 
the foe for the first time. The British were mostly veterans, an4 
had the confidence arising from former victories. ' Yet so thoroughly 
did Scott infuse his own heroic spirit into the soldiers, that the ene- 
my was routed by inferior numbers. . In this battle McNeil's batta- 
lion marched steadily forward, in the face of a withering fire, until 
within eighty paces of the foe, when Scott calling on the men to 
charge with the bayonet, they rushed on the hostile ranks and swept 
them from the field. A few days after, Scott participated in the bat- 
tle of Lundy's Lane, the most fiercely contested struggle of the war. 
On this field, both he and the Commander-in-chief were wounded, 
the former dangerously so. In consequence of his wound he was 
disabled from service until the close of the war; and for a mouth, 
during which he lay at Buffalo and Williamsville, his recovery was 
considered doubtful. As soon as his strength would allow, he pro- 
ceeded to Philadelphia to complete his cure under the eminent sur- 
geons of that city. For h*s services at Chippewa he was brevetted 
a Major-General, the only instance in this country where that rank 
Das been earned in battle at the early age of twenty-eight. He was 



WlN^IfitD SCOTi'. 



217 



subsequently complimented with a vote of thanks from Congress, for 
his skill and gallantry at both Chippewa and Lundy's Lane, and 
also for his general good conduct throughout the war. By the same 




COPY OF A GOLD MEDAL PRESENTED BY CONGRESS TO GENERAL SCOTT 



vote, on the 3rd of November, 1814, a gold medal was ordered to 
be struck and presented to him. The rapid rise of Scott is without 
a parallel in American military history. It is understood that Madi- 
son at first objected to his promotion to a Lieutenant-Colonelcy over 
the heads of his numerous seniors ; but the sagacity of those officers 
who recommended him was, as events proved, superior to that of 
the President. Next to Brown, the Commander-in-chief, Scott con 
tributed most to the victories of 1814. He won those victories by 
thoroughly drilling his troops ; by inspiring them with confidence in 
their own powers ; and by leading them, in the hour of battle, with 
an intrepidity that shamed cowardice into bravery, and exahed 
courage into heroism. 

After the declaration of peace, Scott was offered the post of Secre- 
tary of War. Many reasons, however, induced him to decline it. 
ftis youth was a prominent one, but he was also influenced by the 
consideration that both Jackson and Brown, who were his seniors, 

M — T 



» WINFIELD SCOTT., 

would be compelled to serve under him. He was then solicited to 
take the post, ad interim, until Mr. Crawford, who was subse- 
quently appointed, could return from Paris. This also he declined, 
and on the same grounds. He now visited Europe, under secret 
orders from the government, his mission being to ascertain the views 
of England with respect to Cuba and the revolted colonies of Spain. 
While abroad he devoted all his leisure time to professional im- 
provement. His reputation had preceded him, and he was every- 
where received with distinction. He had thus an opportunity of 
prosecuting his studies to great advantage. On his return to the 
United States, he was assigned the command of the sea-board, and 
fixed his head quarters at New York. In that city, or near it, at Eliza- 
bethtown, N. J., he resided until the Black Hawk war broke out in 
1832. During the interval, by authority of government, he published 
a system of military discipline, known as the general regulations of 
the army, embracing the whole routine of our army in peace or war. 
He also published a system of infantry tactics, believed to be the 
most perfect in the world. 

It Avas during this interval also, that a controversy arose between 
him and General Gaines, in reference to brevet rank. Brevet rank 
has always, since its first introduction by Washington, been a source 
of trouble in the army. It affords but a doubtful grade at best, and 
ought either to be abolished or enlarged. We shall reserve a full 
explanation of this difficult subject to our biography of Worth. Scott, 
in his dispute with Gaines, assumed nearly the same ground as 
Worth subsequently took against Twiggs ; and, as in the latter case, 
the decision of the executive was adverse to the claim of brevet 
rank. Scott, on this, tendered his resignation. Jackson was at that 
time President, and unwilling that the army should lose Scott, 
offered the latter a year's furlough, in order to allow him time for 
mature consideration, before taking the final step. Scott availed 
himself of this leave of absence to revisit Europe. On his return, 
finding that public opinion was against him, he withdrew his resig- 
nation. 

When the Black Hawk war devastated the western frontier in 
1832, he was ordered to that quarter from his command in the east. 
This is not the place to narrate the history of that war, and we only 
lefer to it for the purpose of illustrating Scott's character. Having 
embarked from Buffalo for Chicago, in the beginning of July, with 
about one thousand soldiers, the cholera suddenly broke out amgng 
the troops. The consternation immediately became general. Men 
who would have rushed to the cannon's mouth undaunted, shrank from 



WINFIELD SCOTT. • 219 

«»ncountenng death in this new and terrible snape. Of less than two 
hundred and fifty persons on board the steamboat in which General 
Scott hadembarked, fifty-two died before reaching Chicago, and eighty 
were landed sick at that place. In a word, the boat had become a 
lazar house. In this awful crisis, Scott laid aside his rank, and 
taking his life, as it were, in his hand, went from cot to cot, person- 
ally ministering to the invalids, and encouraging others by his calm 
confidence. There are two sorts of heroism. The first is active^ 
like that which we see on the battle-field : it is the heroism of excite- 
ment, impetuosity, enthusiasm. This Scott had evinced at Lundy's 
Lane. But there is another kind of heroism, that which is merely 
passive ; which calmly looks death in the face, when there is noth- 
ing but duty to spur us on ; and it was this more glorious heroism 
which Scott now displayed ! 

Of nine hundred and fifty men who left Buffalo, but four hundred 
remained for actual service when the army began its advance into 
the Indian country. On joining General Atkinson at Prairie du 
Chien, Scott learned that Black Hawk had already been defeated. 
The cholera now broke out afresh, and raged with awful violence. 
Its ravages were not confined to the Americans, but extending to the 
savage tribes in their neighborhood, carried terror and death every- 
where. It was as when the angel of the pestilence went through 
Egypt, destroying the first born. Scott, on the occasion, acted with 
the same quiet heroism as during the voyage to Chicago. Not con- 
tent with providing for the comfort of the soldiers, he visited them 
in person, in their sick-beds, and by cheering their drooping spii;jts, 
contributed as much as the medicine, to their recovery. At last, in 
September, the cholera disappeared. Scott now proceeded to complete 
his duties prior to his returning eastward. Black Hawk had fallen 
into the hands of the Americans in the preceding month, and nothing 
remained for the termination of all difficulties, but to conclude a 
treaty with the Indians. Accordingly, conferences were opened at 
Rock Island, with the Sacs, Foxes, Winnebagoes, and other tribes, 
the commissioners, on the part of the United States,*being General 
Scott and Governor Reynolds of Ilhnois. In a shori time the 
treaties were negotiated. For his conduct in these transactions, 
Scott was complimented by the Secretary of War, who declared that 
he had overcome a series of difficulties requiring higher moral 
courage than the operations of the most active campaign. The 
verdict of popular opinion was to the same effect. 

Scott returned to New York in October of the same year. In a 
few days he was summoned to Washington, where he received ap 



820 * WiNPIELD SCOTT. 

order to repair to Charleston, on a highly important and delicate 
mission. It was the period when South Carolina threatened nullifi- 
cation. Scott was instructed to inspect the forts in Charleston harbor, 
and to reinforce them with troops, as prudence and precaution might 
require. He was also directed to confer with the collector of the 
port, and with the United States District Attorney, and take such 
other steps as they, in concurrence with himself, might think advi- 
sable to maintain the authority of the federal government. He was 
told to leave the execution of the laws to the civil power, unless it 
should prove insufficient, in which case he was to report to the 
President, and await his orders. Scott immediately repaired to 
Charleston, where he acted with a caution and discretion that was 
crowned with the happiest results. Without forgetting his position 
as a United States officer, he omitted no opportunity to conciliate the 
inhabitants of the city. He directed his officers and soldiers to give 
way, on all occasions, to the towns-people, and not even to resent an 
indignity, should one be oifered. A fire happening to break out in 
Charleston, Scott despatched the principal portion of his troops to 
the succor of the citizens. By this wise course of concihation, he 
assisted materially to the pacification of South Carolina. Had a 
single drop of blood been shed in any chance collision between his 
soldiers and the people of Charleston, a civil war would have been 
inevitable, and such a collision would have been the certain conse- 
quence, if any General of less tact and moderation had been sent to 
South Carohna. 

In December, 1835, Major Dade's command was massacred by 
the Seminole Indians, and the Florida war immediately broke out. 
Scott was ordered to take command of the troops destined to operate 
against the Indians. He left Washington on the 21st of January, 
1836, the day after he received his appointment, and, on his arrival 
in Florida, promptly began active measures to reduce the savages. 
While thus engaged, however, he learned that the Creek Indians 
in Georgia and Alabama, were exhibiting symptoms of disaftection. 
and, accordingly, on the 20th of February, he hastened to this new 
scene. His command was shortly after brought to a close by his 
lecall. The causes of this require some explanation. General 
Jessup, his second in command, disapproving of Scott's mode of 
fighting the savages, disobeyed his orders, on which Scott com- 
plained to the department. Jessup, in turn, defended himself The 
President decided against Scott, ordered his recall, and directed an 
inquiry to be had into the delays and failures of the campaign, 
Scott, on his part, hastened to Washington, and boldly demanded a 



WINFIELC SCOTT. 221 

court-martial. The court was accordingly ordered, with General 
Macomb as President. The result, after a long and elaborate in- 
quiry, was the acquittal of Scott. The Seminole campaign was pro- 
nounced to have been well devised, and to have been ably, steadily, 
and prudently prosecuted. The plan of the Creek campaign was 
declared well calculated to lead to successful results, and to have been 
prosecuted by Scott, as far as practicable, with zeal and ability, 
until his recall. The court did not terminate its sittings until Mr. 
Van Buren had succeeded General Jackson in the executive chair, 
and the new President immediately confirmed its decision. The 
original difficulty between Jackson and Scott arose chiefly from the 
very opposite notions held by them as to the best method of waging 
an Indian war. The President's views were, perhaps, correct on 
this occasion. Certainly, if any man knew how to fight savages, it 
was the conqueror of the Creeks. 

In 1837, when the insurrection broke out in Canada, Scott was 
deputed to the northern frontier. His task here, as in Charleston, 
was a delicate one. The Americans generally were favorable to 
the revolters, and lost no occasion of displaying their sympathy, or 
affording aid. The relations between the United States and Great 
Britain were placed in continual jeopardy. The prudence of Scott, 
however, averted a collision. His duties on the border had scarcely 
ceased, when he was ordered to superintend the removal of the 
Cherokees from Georgia and the neighboring states, beyond the Mis- 
sissippi. This also was a mission of exceeding difficulty. The 
Cherokees were averse to a removal, declaring that the treaty pro- 
viding for their emigration had been surreptitiously obtained. An ap- 
peal to arms seemed inevitable. So mild and conciliatory, however, 
was the course of Scott, and yet so firm, that the Indians yielded in 
the end, and their removal was effected without any of the alarming 
results which had been foreboded. Scott next served on the north-^ 
eastern frontier, where the disputes about the Maine boundary ren- 
dered the presence of a General of tact and prudence peculiarly ne- 
cessary. The friendship existing between Scott and the Governor of 
New Brunswick, and which dated back to the war of 1812, wheu 
Scott had saved Sir John Harvey's life, contributed, in no slight de- 
gree, to maintain peace between Great Britain and the United 
States at this critical juncture. Scott having first soothed the feeling* 
of the people of Maine, proposed frankly to Harvey a mutual with 
drawal of troops from the disputed territory. Sir John Harvey im 
mediately acceded to this request. '^ My reliance on you, my deat 
General." he said in his reply to Scott, " has led me to give my willing, 



222 WINPIELD SCOTT. 

assent to your proposition." This was the first step towards healing 
the breach. Subsequently, as is well known, all difficulties between 
the two countries were compromised, and the boundary definitely 
adjusted by the Ashburton treaty. 

On the death of General Macomb, in 1841, Scott was made a full 
Major-General, and appointed Commander-in-chief of the army. 
When Texas was annexed to the United States, and it was purposed 
to send an army of occupation into the new state, Scott recommended 
that the command of this force should be confided to Brevet-Briga- 
dier-General Taylor, a choice whose wisdom subsequent events hav^ 
fully justified^ When the war with Mexico began, Scott was desir- 
ous of joining Taylor with large reinforcements and advancing on 
the capital. In arranging the march of the volunteers, called out 
under the act of Congress, he displayed a mastery over details, 
which, though scarcely appreciated at the time, has since become the 
admiration of the country. A hasty expression in a letter to the Se- 
cretary of War, insinuating a doubt of the government's sincerity 
towards him, induced the President to revoke his original intention 
of entrusting the Mexican war to Scott. Accordingly Scott remained 
at Washington, attending to the ordinary routine of his office, while 
Taylor was marching from victory to victory. At last the public 
opinion, which had at first run strongly against Scott, began to turn. 
His predictions, which had been scoff'ed at, were verified by events. 
His past services, his eminent ability, and the claims of his rank, 
finally triumphed, and obtained for him the command of the expedi- 
tion against Vera Cruz. He sailed from New York on the 30th of 
November, 1846, and arrived on the Rio Grande about the close of 
the year. Here he found the troops collected for the siege of Vera Cruz 
less numerous than he had demanded, or than he had been led to 
expect ; and accordingly, the unpleasant alternative was cast upon 
him of delaying the expedition, or stripping Taylor of the remainder 
of the army of the Rio Grande. Scott chose the latter alternative. 
Having collected the divisions of Twiggs, Worth, Patterson, Pillow^ 
and Quitman, he sailed with them to Cape Antonio Lizardo, where, 
on the 7th of March, the whole invading force was concentrated to 
the number of twelve thousand men. 

The brilliant campaign that followed belongs rather to history 
than to the biography of Scott ; and we have accordingly narrated 
it already in another portion of this work. Never, on this continent, 
were such splendid results reaped in so short a time. On the 10th 
of March the army disembarked near Vera Cruz, and on the 29th 
the city and castle surrendered. On the 18th of April the victory 



WINFTELD SCOTT. 2 

of Cerro Gordo was won. On the 15th of May Puebla fell into the 
hands of the Americans. A pause of nearly three months now en- 
sued, induced by the necessity of waiting for reinforcements. Scott 
occupied this interval in thoroughly drilling his troops, and in endeav- 
oring to conciliate the leading men among the Mexicans. At last, 
on the 7th of August, having been joined by a sufficient number of 
recruits to raise his effective force to eleven thousand men, he began 
his march on the capital. The battles of Contreras and Churubusco 
followed on the 20th of August ; when the enemy, being defeated 
on both occasions, sued for peace. The negotiations, however, ter- 
minated unfavorably. On the 9th of September hostilities were re- 
sumed by assaulting Molino del Rey,*vhere the Mexicans were 
driven from the field, though fourfold the number of the Americans. 
On the 13th, Chapultepec was stormed and carried. On the 14th, 
Scott entered the city of Mexico in triumph, and took up his quar- 
ters as a conqueror in the national palace. We search in vain for a 
parallel to these astonishing successes, except in the career of Napo- 
leon, or the fabulous legends of old. 

Too much cannot be said of the skill of Scott in this short cam- 
paign of six months. In turning the enemy's position at Cerro Gor- 
do, and thus rendering useless the batteries Santa Anna had erected, 
the American Commander evinced the most consummate generalship. 
So, in his manoeuvres in front of Mexico, he continually rendered 
the preparations of the Mexicans abortive by some skilful move- 
ment, that, evading their stronger positions, precipitated his army 
where it was least expected. There has been an attempt made to 
depreciate the merit of Scott by assigning to various officers import- 
ant suggestions. But a Commander-in-chief should be censured for 
neglecting, rather than for adopting wise counsel. He assumes the 
responsibility of all measures, and as he would be blamed for their 
miscarriage, he should be entitled to the glory of their success. Pos- 
terity is always just in this respect. The reputations of the great 
Turenne, of Marlborough, and of other eminent Generals of the past; 
have swallowed up the lesser renown of the many able commandefs 
who fought under them, and io whom perhaps, they were indebted 
for important suggestions. A great General is he who works out 
successes from the resources of others as well as of himself. * 

The care with which Scott husbanded his forces, while he main- 
tained also a daring front towards the foe, is another proof of his 
genius. That military commander is the most worthy of applause 
who achieves the largest results with the smallest means. Tried by 
this standard, Scott is one of the greatest commanders of modern 



224 WINFIELD SCOTT. 

times. At Cerro Gordo he overthrew more than twice his own 
numbers. At Churubusco he defeated thirty thousand troops with 
less than nine thousand. At Chapuhepec, with even a smaller num- 
ber, he conquered twenty thousand, part of whom were strongly 
fortified on the hill. Molino del Rey was the only battle in the 
whole campaign which was not cheaply earned, and the inimensQ 
slaughter of the Americans there arose from the impossibility of re- 
connoitreing the enemy's position. Another characteristic of Scott, 
was the skill with which he raised his volunteers almost to the level 
of regulars, by disciplining them, by gradually inuring them to com- 
bat, by inspiring them with glorious examples in their officers. 
Always daring, yet never feckless ; always successful, yet rarely 
wasting a single life, Scott, with an army of only eleven thousand 
men, conquered a nation of seven millions, and entered a capital of 
two hundred thousand souls in triumph. The mere announcement 
of such brilliant achievements will hereafter be sufficient for his fame 
It will be said that the General who could do this, no matter by 
what fortuitous circumstances assisted, was worthy to rank with 
those immortal commanders who fill the Pantheon of military his- 
tory, the Fredericks, Gustavuses and Wallensteins of other days ! 

The assault on "Chapultepec, and the subsequent advance to the 
gates of Mexico, are, perhaps, the most brilliant incidents in the war ; 
and the daring, yet prudence of Scott's genius cannot be so well 
understood as by a full comprehension of those decisive affairs. We 
have already narrated, in another place, the fall of Chapultepec, as 
well as the triumphant entry of the Americans into Mexico ; but this 
sketch would be incomplete if we omitted the official despatch, 
describing this latter event. Its narrative is so clear ; its statistics so 
compactly arranged, and its testimony to the general difficulties of the 
campaign so convincing, that it forms a fitting conclusion to this 
rapid summary of the campaign. After describing the fall of Cha- 
pultepec, and the movement of Worth around the foot of the hill, 
where he remained in readiness to follow the enemy along the San 
Cosmo road, Scott continues the animated story thus : — 

" Arriving some minutes later, and mounting to the top of the 
castle, the whole field to the east lay plainly under my view. There 
are two routes from Chapultepec to the capital — the one on the 
right entering the same gate, Belen, with the road from the south, 
via Piedad ; and the other obliquing to the left, to intersect the great 
western, or San Cosmo road, in a suburb outside of the gate of San 
Cosmo. Each of these routes (an elevated causeway) presents a 
double roadway on the sides of an aqueduct of strong masonry and 



WINFIELD SCOTT. 225 

great height, resting on open arches and massive pillars, which 
together afford fine points both for attack and defence. The side- 
ways of both aqueducts are, moreover, defended by many strong 
breastworks at the gates, and before reaching them. As we had 
expected, we found the four tracts unusually dry and solid for the 
season. 

"Worth and Quitman were prompt in pursuing the retreating 
enemy — ^the former by the San Cosmo acqueduct, and the latter 
along that of Belen. Each had now advanced some hundred yards. 
Deeming it all-important to profit by our successes, and the conse- 
quent dismay of the enemy, which could not be otherwise than 
general, I hastened to despatch from Chapultepec — first Clark's 
brigade, and then Cadwalader's, to the support of Worth, and gave 
orders that the necessary heavy guns should follow. Pierce's brigade 
was, at the same tiii:ie, sent to Quitman, and, in the course of the 
afternoon, I caused some additional siege pieces to be added to his 
train. Then, after designating the fifteenth infantry, under Lieutenant- 
Colonel Howard — Morgan, the Colonel, had been disabled by a 
wound at Churubusco — as the garrison of Chapultepec, and giving 
directions for the care of the prisoners of war, the captured ordnance 
and ordnance stores, I proceeded to join the advance of Worth, within 
the suburb, and beyond the turn at the junction of the acqueduct 
with the great highway from the west to the gate of San Cosmo. 

" At this junction of roads, we first passed one of those formidable 
systems of city defences, spoken of above, and it had not a gun ! — a 
strong proof, 1. That the enemy had expected us to fail in the attack 
upon Chapultepec, even if we meant any thing more than a feint ; 
2. That, in either case, we designed, in his belief, to return and 
double our forces against the southern gates — a delusion kept up by 
the active demonstrations of Twiggs and the forces posted on that 
side ; and, 3. That advancing rapidly from the reduction of Chapul- 
tepec, the enemy had not time to shift guns — our previous captures 
had left him, comparatively, but few — from the southern gates. 

" Within those disgarnished works, I found our troops engaged in 
a street fight against the enemy posted in gardens, at windows, and 
on house-tops — all flat with parapets. Worth ordered forward the 
mountain howitzers of Cadwalader's brigade, preceded by skirmish- 
ers and pioneers, with pickaxes and crowbars, to force windows 
and doors, or to burrow through walls. The assailants were soon in 
an equality of position fatal to the enemy. By eight o'clock in the 
evening. Worth had carried two batteries in this suburb. Accord- 
ing to my instructions, he here posted guards and sentinels, and 

28 



2:26 WINFIELD SCOTT. 

placed his troops under shelter for the night. There was but one 
more obstacle — the San Cosmo gate, (custom-house,) between him 
and the great square in front of the cathedral and palace, the heart 
of the city ; and that barrier, it was known could not, by daylight 
T3sist our siege guns thirty minutes. 

"I had gone back to the foot of Chapultepec, the point from which 
the two aqueducts begin to diverge, some hours earlier, in order to 
be near that new depot, and in easy communication with Quitman 
and Twiggs, as well as with Worth. From this point I ordered all 
detachments and stragglers to their respective corps, then in advance ; 
sent to Quitman additional siege guns, ammunition, intrenching 
tools ; directed Twiggs' remaining brigade (Riley's) from Piedad, to 
support Worth and Captain Steptoe's iield-battery, also at Piedad, 
to rejoin Quitman's division. 

" I had been, from the first, well aware that the western, or San 
Cosmo, was the less difficult route to the centre, and conquest of the 
capital, and therefore intended that Quitman should only manoeuvre 
and threaten the Belen or south-western gate, in order to favor the 
main attack by Worth, knowing that the strong defences at the 
Belen were directly under the guns of the much stronger fortress, 
called the citadel, just within. Both of these defences of the enemy 
were also within easy supporting distance from the San Angel (or 
Nino Perdido) and Saii Antonio gates. Hence the greater support 
in numbers, given to Worth's movement as the main attack. 

" These views I repeatedly, in the course of the day, communicated 
to Major-General Quitman; but being in hot pursuit — gallant him- 
self, and ably supported by Brigadier-Generals Shields and Smith, 
Shields badly wounded before Chapultepec, and refusing to retire, 
as well as by all the officers and men of the column — Quitman con- 
tinued to press forward, under flank and direct fires, carried an inter- 
mediate battery of two guns, and then the gate, before two o'clock 
in the afternoon, but not without proportionate loss, increased by his 
steady maintenance of that position. 

" Flere, of the heavy battery, (4th artillery,) Captain Drum and 
Lieutenant Benjamin were mortally wounded, and Lieutenant Por- 
ter, its third in rank, sUghtly. The loss of those two most distin- 
guished officers the army will long mourn. Lieutenants J. B. Mo- 
range and William Canty, of the South Carolina volunteers, also of 
nigh merit, fell on the same occasion, besides many of our bravest 
non-commissioned officers and men, particularly in Captain Drum's 
veteran company. I cannot, in this place, give names or numbers; 
DUt full returns of the killed and wounded, of all corps, in their 
'•ecent operations, will accompany this report. 



WINFIELD SCOTT. 



227 



"Quitman within the city — adding several new defences to the 
position he had won, and sheltering his corps as well as practicable 
—now awaited the return of daylight under the guns of the formi- 
dable citadel, yet to be subdued. 

"About four o'clock next morning, (September 14,) a deputation 
of the ayuntamiento (city council) waited upon me to report that 
the federal government and the army of Mexico had fled from the 
capital some three hours before; and to demand terms of capitula- 
tion in favor of the church, the citizens, and the municipal authori- 
ties. I promptly replied, that I would sign no capitulation ; that the 
city had been virtually in our possession from the time of the lodg- 
ments effected by Worth and Quitman, the day b^efore ; that I re- 
gre**-.d the silent escape of the Mexican army ; that I should levy on 




GRAND PLAZA (OR GREAT SQUARE) CITY OF MEXICO. 



the city a moderate contribution, for special purposes;, and that tlia 
American army should come under no terms not self-imposed : sucli 
only as its own honor, the dignity of the United States, and the 
spirit of the age, should, in my opinion, imperiously demand and 
impose. 



228 WINPIELD SCOTT. 

*' At the termination of the interview with the city deputation, I 
communicated, about dayUght, orders to Worth and Quitman to 
advance slowly and cautiously (to guard against treachery,) towards 
the heart of the city, and to occupy its stronger and more command- 
ing points. Quitman proceeded to the great plaza or square, planted 
guards, and hoisted the colors of the United States on the national 
palace, containing the halls of Congress and executive departments 
of federal Mexico. In this grateful service, Quitman might have 
been anticipated by Worth, but for my express orders, halting the 
latter at the head of the Alameda, (a green park,) within three 
squares of that goal of general ambition. The capital, however, was 
not taken by any one or two corps, but by the talent, the science, 
the gallantry, the prowess of this entire army. In the glorious con- 
quest, all had contributed, early and powerfully, the killed, the 
wounded, and the fit for duty, at Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, 
San Antonio, Churub^sco, (three battles,) the Molino del • Rey and 
Chapultepec, as much as those who fought at the gates of Belen 
and San Cosmo. 

" Soon after we had entered, and were in the act of occupying the 
city, a fire was opened upon us from the flat roofs of the houses, 
from windows and corners of streets, by some two thousand convicts^ 
liberated the night before by the flying government, joined by, per* 
haps, as many Mexican soldiers, who had disbanded themselves, and 
thrown off" their uniforms. This unlawful war lasted more than 
twenty-four hours, in spite of the exertions of the municipal autho- 
rities, and was not put down till we had lost many men, including 
several oflicers, killed or wounded, and had punished the miscreants. 
Their object was to gratify national hatred, and in the general 
alarm and confusion, to plunder the wealthy inhabitants, particularly 
the deserted houses. But families are now generally returning; 
business of every kind has been resumed, and the city is already 
tranquil and cheerful, under the admirable conduct (with exceptions 
very few and trifling) of our gallant troops. '^ 

Scott then contrasts the smallness of his own force compared 
with that of the enemy ; and in a strain of honest exultation, re- 
hearses the disasters he has inflicted on the enemy. "Leaving," 
he says, " as we all feared, inadequate garrisons at Vera Cruz, Pe- 
rote, and Puebla, with much larger hospitals; and being obliged, 
most reluctantly, from the general paucity of numbers, to abandon 
Jalapa, we marched on the 7th of August, from Puebla, with only 
ten thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight rank and file. This 
number includes the garrison of Jalapa, and the two thousand four 



WINFIELD SCOTT. 229 

hundred and twenty-nine men brought up by Brigadier-General 
Pierce, on August the 6th. 

" At Contreras and Churubusco, we had but eight thousand four 
hundred and ninety-seven men engaged — after deducting the garri- 
son of San Augustin, the intermediate sick and the dead \ at the 
MoUno del Rey, but three brigades, with some cavalry and artillery 
— making in all three thousand two hundred and fifty-one men — 
were in the battle. In the two days, September 12th and 13th, our 
whole operating force, after deducting again, the recent killed, 
wounded and sick, together with the garrison of Miscoac, the gene- 
ral depot, and that of Tacubaya, was but seven thousand one hun^ 
dred and eighty ; and, finally, after deducting the new garrison of 
Chapultepec, with the killed and wounded of the two days, we took 
possession of this great capital with less than six thousand men. 
And I re-assert, upon accumulated and unquestionable evidence, that 
in not one of those conflicts was this army opposed by fewer than 
three and a half times its numbers — in several of them, by a yet 
greater excess. 

" I recapitulate our losses since we arrived in the basin of Mexico : 
August 19, 20 — killed, one hundred and thirty-seven, including four- 
teen officers. Wounded, eight hundred and seventy-seven, includ- 
ing sixty-two officers. Missing, (probably killed,) thirty-eight rank 
and file. Total, one thousand and fifty-two. September 8 — killed, 
one hundred and sixteen, including nine officers. Wounded, six hun- 
dred and sixty-five, including forty-nine officers. Missing, eighteen 
rank and file. Total, seven hundred and eighty-nine. September 
12, 13, 14 — killed, one hundred and thirty, including ten officers. 
Wounded, seven hundred and three, inchading sixty-eight officers. 
Missing, twenty-nine rank and file. Total, eight hundred and sixty- 
two. Grand total of losses, two thousand seven hundred and three, 
including three hundred and eighty-three officers. 

" On the other hand, this small force has beaten on the same occa- 
sions, in view of their capital, the whole Mexican army, which, at 
the beginning, numbered thirty-odd thousand men. This army was 
posted, always in chosen positions, behind intrenchments, or more 
formidable defences of nature and art. We killed or wounded of 
that number, more than seven thousand officers and men ; took three 
thousand seven hundred and thirty prisoners, one-seventh officers^ 
including thirteen Generals, of whom three had been Presidents of 
this Republic ; and captured more than twenty colors and standards, 
seventy-five pieces of ordnance, besides fifty-seven wall pieces, 
twenty thousand small-arms, an immense quantity of shots, shells, 
M — u 



230 WINPIELD SCOTT. 

powder, &c., &c. Of that enemy, once so formidable in numbers, 
appointments, artillery, &c., twenty-odd thousand have disbanded 
themselves in despair, leaving, as is known, not more than three frag 
ments — the largest about two thousand five hundred — ^now wander 
ing in different directions, without magazines or a military chest, 
and living at free quarters upon their own people." 

After his occupation of the capital, Scott proceeded, in compliance 
with the orders of the President, to levy contributions on the differ- 
ent towns in Mexico. He also, sent out detachments to overrun the 
country and complete its conquest in detail. The securing of an 
honorable and lasting peace, was an object never absent from his 
nind ; and he lost no opportunity, therefore, of propitiating the lead- 
ing men of Mexico whom he thought likely to favor his wishes. It 
was in a measure through his exertions that the treaty was subse- 
quently negotiated by Mr. Trist. 

The government of the United States, however, did not agree 
with their General in all particulars, and, after a correspondence 
between Scott and the Secretary of War, which grew warmer 
with each letter, it was determined to deprive him of his com- 
mand and bring his conduct before a court of inquiry. General 
Towson was ordered to Mexico to act as President of this court 
When the court of inquiry met, however, the charges intended to 
have been made against Scott, were withdrawn. 

Scott took leave of the army in Mexico, his companions in so many 
dangers, in a temperate and appropriate address, in the course of 
which he complimented his successor. General Butler. The parting 
between Scott and his old soldiers was affecting. Even those who 
had been alienated from him forgot, on this occasion, their animosi- 
ties, and saw, with regret, the loss of that profound military genius 
which had sown their path with victories. 

Scott is a severe disciplinarian. The execution of the deserters 
captured at Churubusco is defended on the ground of necessity ; but 
it is a question whether the ends of justice would not have been 
equally well obtained, if these men had been ignominiously drummed 
out of camp. 

In person Scott is over six feet high ; his bearing is soldierly and 
dignified. 




DAVID E. TWIGGS 




HERE are two classes of men 
who become famous in the mili- 
tary profession. The first are 
those who excel in tactics and 
strategy, but are not remarkable 
for any peculiar heroism of cha- 
racter. The second, with less of 
scientific knowledge, possess more 
of the true qualities of the soldier, 
and are known, in military phrase, 
as fighting men. There is still a 
third description, though th^eir 
numbers are so few as scarcely 
to entitle them to be considered a class, who unite heroism of cha- 
racter with the highest intellectual attainments. Of this latter num- 
ber is Scott. Twiggs, the subject of the present sketch, belongs to 
*he second class. 

231 



232 DAVID E. TWIGGS. 

David E. Twiggs, a Brigadier-General in the line of the army, is 
the fifth son of General John Twiggs, of revolutionary memory, 
whose services in that stormy era in behalf of his native state, won 
for him the name of the ** Saviour of Georgia." The subject of our 
memoir was born in Richmond county, Georgia, in the year 1790. 
He finished his collegiate course in Franklin College, at Athens : 
and subsquently studied law in Augusta, with the late Thomas 
Flournoy. His mind, however, had more of a mihtary, than a legal 
turn, and hence, when the war of 1S12 broke out, he solicited a 
commission ; and being appointed a Captaiu of infantry, has served, 
from that time to this, in the army of his country. 

During the war he was retained on the south-eastern frontier, 
where no opportunity was afforded for signal distinction. He 
fulfilled his duties, however, in so exemplary a manner that, on the 
declaration of peace, he was not only retained in the service, but 
brevetted a Major. In 1S17, when Gaines commanded on the Flo- 
rida border, a body of Indians at a place called Foultown, refused 
to emigrate according to stipulation. In consequence. Major Twiggs 
was sent against them with two hundred and fifty men. On the 
march, the Indians assailed his command. But, after a desperate 
fight, Twiggs came off victorious, killing and wounding a large 
number of the savages. He then pursued his route to Foultown, 
which he found deserted. After destroying the place, he returned 
to head-quarter?, where his gallantry was warmly commended by 
General Gaines. Soon after, Jackson was sent to supersede Gaines; 
and, on the 7th of March, 1818, under his orders, Twiggs captured 
St. Marks, the first town taken from Spain in this contest. At the 
trial of Arbuthnot and Ambrister, Eiiglish subjects who were exe- 
cuted by Jackson for abetting the Indians, Twiggs was present, and 
approved of the decision of the Commander-in-chief. 

Many years of peace succeeded these events, during which no 
opportunity for distinction was afforded to the army. Twiggs, 
meantime, rose to be Lieutenant-Colonel of the fourth infantry. 
At last the Black Hawk war occurred. Twiggs was now ordered 
with his regiment to the seat of hostilities, and was on board the 
steamboat Henry Clay when the cholera broke out, during her voy- 
age up the lakes. In the biography of Scott we have described the 
horrors of that fearful time. Twiggs, finding that the boat on which 
he had embarked was become a pest-house, assumed the responsi- 
bihty of landing his command at Fort Gratiot, on the lower end of 
Lake Huron. The last person to leave the boat was Twiggs himself. 
But the sufferings of the troops were not yet at an end. The pesti- 



DAVID E. TWIGGS. 233 

lence followed them, though in a mitigated form, and a large num- 
ber perished of the disease. Others, appalled by the fear of infection, 
deserted, and many of them died miserably in the wilderness, where 
the wolves devoured their bodies. 

The frank, brave character of Twiggs early recommended him to 
Jackson, with whom indeed he possessed many points in common. 
Accordingly the latter, now become President, assigned Twiggs the 
command of the arsenal at Augusta, a gratifying appointment to the 
recipient, since it placed him in a vicinity endeared to him from child- 
hood. The post, at that time, was of great importance, for it was the 
period of the nullification excitement, and, in case of an outbreak, 
the protection of the arms at Augusta would have been of the most 
vital moment. Subsequently, Twiggs was stationed at New Orleans ; 
and in the latter place he continued to reside for a considerable time. 

When the Florida war broke out, Twiggs was ordered to the scene 
of hostiUties. The murder of Major Dade and his command had 
exasperated the army, a feeling in which the nation shared at large. 
The desire to meet the Indians burned in every bosom. The battle 
of Withlagoochie, fought by Gaines, and in which Twiggs was second 
in command, gratified in part this desire for revenge. On the eighth 
of June, 1836, Twiggs was appointed Colonel of the second regiment 
of dragoons, then directed to be raised. The organization of this 
new command had scarcely been completed when he was ordered 
to Florida. The character of the war was now, however, changed. 
The territory was dotted with small posts, which divided the num- 
bers and impaired the strength of the army ; and in consequence no 
more general actions were fought. Besides, the Indians were averse 
to pitched battles, preferring a desultory warfare by ambushes and 
surprises. The services of Twiggs were arduous, but not brilliant. 
He was finally succeeded in his command by Worth, and for several 
years following, owing to family afflictions, remained on furlough. 

When General Taylor was ordered to Corpus Christi, Twiggs, at 
the head of two squadrons of dragoons, was detached lo join him. 
Here a difficulty occurred between him and Worth, which led to the 
latter's resignation. We have detailed this affair, at sufficient length, 
in the biography of Worth. At the battle of Palo Alto, Twiggs, as 
second in command, led the right wing of the American army. On 
this occasion, as well as at Resaca de la Palma, he behaved with 
that indomitable bravery which is his characteristic. General Tay- 
lor, in his despatches, compliments Twiggs highly. On the fall of 
Matamoras, Twiggs was appointed Governor of that place. Congress 
having authorised the creation of two new Brigadiers, he was shortly 

M — U* 



234 



D->VID E. TWTGGS. 




FIGHTING IN THE STREETS IN MONTEBET. 



afier appointed to one of the commissions. At Monterey, Twiggs 
commanded a division on the eastern side of the town. It was here 
. that the most terrible fighting, perhaps, of the whole siege, occurred. 
On the third daj?- he dashed into the city, drove the enemy along the 
streets, and was rapidly approaching Worth, who was advancing from 
the other side, when the capitulation took place. Twiggs was now 
appointed Governor of the town, when, as at Matamoras, his strict 
discipline, combined with impartial justice, maintained order. He 
remained at Monterey until summoned, with his veteran troops, to 
join General Scott, when the latter was about to begin the siege of 
Vera Cruz. 

Vera Cruz fell; and now began that famous march to Mexico, 
which has had no parallel since the days of Cortez ! On the 17th 
of April the army arrived at the pass of Cerro Gordo, which was 
held by Santa Anna at the head of twenty thousand men. The 
chief work of that bloody day fell on Twiggs. He had been ordered 
to turn the enemy's left, and, by occupying the national road in 
Santa Anna's rear, to cut off all retreat. This duty he performed in 
the most splendid manner. During the advance of Twiggs on this 
occasion, he detached a part of his division to carry the height of 



DAVID E. TWIGGS. 235 

Cerro Go Jo. This acclivity was crowned with a tower, and formed 
the key .o the enemy's position. "The brigade," says Scott in his 
despatches, alluding to this movement, " ascended the long and dif- 
ficult slope of Cerro Gordo, without shelter, and under a tremendous 
fire of artillery and musketry, with the utmost steadiness, reached 
the breastworks, drove the enemy from them, planted the colors of 
the first artillery, third and seventh infantry — the enemy's flag still 
flying— and after some minutes of sharp firing, finished the conflict 
with the bayonet." 

Twiggs was not personally present at the decisive struggle at Con- 
treras, on the morning of the 20th of August, though he had been 
engaged in the action of the early part of the preceding afternoon. 
As the ground in the front of the enemy was too broken for horses, 
Twiggs, at that time suffering from lameness, was compelled to re- 
tire to his head-quarters. In the subsequent operations of the 20th, 
however, he played an active part. Marching with his division 
across the country, he was the first to reach Churubusco. The route 
by which he approached the village runs nearly at right angles to 
the Acapulco road, and about four hundred yards before joining it, 
is defended by a hacienda of great strength. As Worth was advan- 
qing along the Acapulco road, it became necessary to carry the haci 
enda before a union could be effected with the latter General 

The share of Twiggs in the battle of Churubusco is thus modestly 
stated in his report to the Commander-in-chief. The narrative takes 
up the thread of events immediately after the victory of Contreras. 
" Pursuing a small retreating force," says Twiggs, " through the 
villages of San Angel and Santa Catarina, we gave them occasion- 
ally a running fire until we arrived in front of Churubusco. Here 
the enemy were in a strongly fortified position, with seven pieces of 
cannon and several thousand bayonets, a large body of lancers 
guarding the approach to the right of their work, which was incom- 
plete. I now came to a halt, by order of the General-in -chief, for 
the purpose of having a reconnoisance made. Lieutenant Stevens, 
of the engineers, was sent forward to look at the enemy's position, 
supported by the company of sappers and miners. He reported a 
good position for Taylor's battery towards the left of the work, from 
which it was practicable to drive from the roof and walls of the 
church such of the enemy as, from their elevated position, could 
annoy my foot-troops destined to storm the work surrounding the 
church. 

" The battery was accordingly ordered up. It opened with great 
spirit, and remained under a most galling and destructive fire of 



836 DAVID E. TWIGGS. 

grape, round-shot, shell and musketry, for an hour and a half; by 
which time, having accomplished the desired object, it was with- 
drawn, much crippled in officers, men and horses. In the meantime, 
Smith's brigade was ordered in the same direction the battery took, 
immediately in front of the work, and Riley's further to our left, 
with a view of turning and gaining entrance to the open portion of 
the intrenchments on the enemy's right. After an uninterrupted and 
severe fire on both sides for two hours my troops entered the work. 
All the regiments were close at hand, and shared equally in the 
dangers and honors of the day. General Rincon, the commander 
of the place, and two other general officers, together with several 
others of rank, in all numbering one hundred and four, and one 
thousand one hundred and fifty, five non-commissioned officers and 
privates, prisoners of war, seven pieces of cannon, and a large num- 
ber of small arms, and some ammunition, fell into our hands. This 
closed the operations of my division, which had been under arms in 
the face of the enemy without intermission for thirty hours, and 
achieved one of the most glorious triumphs to the American arms !" 

At Molino del Rey Twiggs was not in action, that battle being 
fought almost entirely by the division of Worth. When, however, 
Scott determined to assault Chapultepec he sent for the veteran di- 
visions of Twiggs and Worth, and from them selected the storming 
party. In the operations that succeeded, to Twiggs was entrusted 
the delicate task of making a false attack on the southern gates, 
while Worth and Quitman assaulted the garitas of Belen and San 
Cosmo. The importance of the services of Twiggs on this occasion, 
may be best understood by imagining what might have been the 
consequences, if, in the ardor for glory, he had converted his feigned, 
into a real attack, and thus, perhaps, prevented the success of the 
whole operations. But cool and circumspect, he admirably executed 
his instructions. He maintained so fierce a cannonade on the gates in 
his front, that the enemy were convinced that this was to be the 
main point of attack ; nor was it until Chapultepec had fallen, when 
it was too late to shift the heavy guns, that the secret was discovered. 

General Twiggs is about six feet high, and stout in proportion. 
He has a fine, soldierly look, though he begins to wear, in his face, 
the marks of hard service and of age. He is a strict disciplinarian, 
but kind to his men. Perhaps no man in the army, after Taylor, is 
so popular with the soldiers. 

Twiggs received, in May, 1848, the brevet of Major-General, to 
date frOiU the capture of Monterey. 




VERA CRUZ. 



JOSEPH G. TOTTEN 




entific 
rivers 



HE Military Academy at West Point has 
proved of inestimable service to our army in 
the war with Mexico. There was a day when 
it was the fashion to decry this institution, and 
to ridicule its graduates as being dandies rather 
than soldiers. But, like the officers of the En- 
glish guards who were the heroes of Waterloo, 
the cadets of West Point have been foremost 
wherever occasion demanded it. At Okee Cho- 
bee, Pelaklaklaha, Fort Fanning,- Palo Alto, 
and Resaca de la Palma, every officer who died 
was a graduate, and every one died with a 
wound in his front. In other fields, where 
skill rather than bravery was required, the sci- 
knowledge of the West Point cadets saved tne effusion of 
of blood. An instance of this occurred at Vera Cruz, where 

237 



238 JOSEPH G. TOTTEN. 

Colonel Totten, one of the oldest graduates of the academy, had the 
general direction of the siege operations. 

Joseph G. Totten was born in Connecticut, about the jesir 1786 
He was first appointed to the army in 1805; but fo^ some cause 
unknown to us, he resigned. On the approach of war, he re- 
sumed his old profession. In 1810 he was made a Lieutenant, and 
in 1812 a Captain. On the 6th of June, 1812, he received the brevet 
of Major for meritorious services, and shortly after, at the battle of 
Queenstown, was made a prisoner by the British. Subsequently, 
being exchanged, he was present at Plattsburg, as chief engineer of 
General Macomb's army, on which occasion he was thanked in 
general orders and rewarded with the brevet of Lieutenant-Colonel. 
He continued in the army after the peace. In 1818, he became 
Major of the engineers. In 1824, the brevet of Colonel was bestowed 
on him. He was pi>omoted to be a full Lieutenant-Colonel in 1828; 
and in 1838 was appointed to his present rank of chief engineer. 

As the head of the corps of engineers Totten had the entire con- 
trol in throwing up the works at Vera Cruz. On this occasion, art 
was carried to its utmost limits. The lines constructed by him were 
the admiration of military men of all countries, and proved that, 
notwithstanding a long peace, the officers of the United States army 
were adepts in their profession. That a city so admirably fortified 
should fall in so short a time must ever redound to the glory of Tot- 
ten. Next to Scott, the head of the engineer corps should enjoy the 
renown of that capture. The Commander-in-chief, in his official 
despatch, says : — " In consideration of tlie great services of Colonel 
Totten, in the siege that has just terminated so successfully, and the 
importance of his presence at Washington as the head of the engi- 
neer-bureau, I entrust this despatch to his personal care, and beg to 
commend him to the very favorable consideration of the department.'-' 

The engineer corps of the United States army is its vitality. It 
has charge of the preservation of all existing forts, and of the con- 
struction of all new ones. In an active campaign its officers are 
entrusted with the preparation of whatever field-works may be con- 
sidered necessary. All storming parties are generally led by mem- 
bers of this corps. Without the services of the engineers at Monte- 
rey, Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, and Chapultepec, those victories would 
nave been changed into defeats. The chief of the corps of engineers 
is, ex officio. Inspector of the Academy at West Point. 

In both person and countenance Totten is graceful ; and seems 
f ounger than he really is. 




ROBERT PATTERSON. 




on the 12th of January, 1792. 



NE of the earliest appointments 
to the army, after the Mexican 
war began, was that of Robert 
Patterson, of Philadelphia, to be 
a Major-General. This gentle- 
man had long served as Major- 
General of the first division of 
Pennsylvania militia, and his 
selection by the President was 
a delicate compliment to the 
people of that state, for their 
alacrity in furnishing volunteers. 
Patterson was born near Stra- 
bane, Tyrone county, Ireland, 
His father emigrated to America in 
239 



240 ROBERT PATTERSON. 

1798, inconsequence of having been engaged in the Irish Rebellion, 
and settled in Delaware county, Pennsylvania. Young Patterson 
became early engaged in trade, and with such success as ultimately 
to render him one of the wealthiest citizens of Philadelphia. 

His mihtary career began in the war of 1812, when he entered 
the army as a Lieutenant. He served for some time on the staff of 
Brigadier-General Bloomfield, and, on the 19th of April, 1814, was 
commissioned Captain in the thirty-second infantry. On the close 
of the war he retired from the service, but devoting his leisure hours 
to the volunteer service, rose successively to be a Brigadier, and then 
Major-General of the Pennsylvania militia. His appointment to the 
army in Mexico bears date January the 7th, 1846. 

On the Rio Grande, Patterson was, at one time, in command of 
an army of eleven thousand men. He was preparing for a descent 
on Tampico, when he received orders to join Scott in the latter's ex- 
pedition against Vera Cruz. During the action at Madeline river, 
near the latter place, Patterson brought up a reinforcement of Ten- 
nessee volunteers, but generously declined to supersede Colonel 
Harney. At Cerro Gordo sickness prevented his leading his division, 
and the command devolved on Pillow. Soon after this battle he 
returned to the United States, being left without a suitable command 
in consequence of the expiration of the terms of so metny volunteers. 
On his retirement Scott complimented him as follows in general 
orders: — ^'^ This distinguished general officer will please accept the 
thanks of the General-in-chief, for the gallant, able, and efficient 
support uniformly received from the second in rank in the army.'' * 

In October 1847, Patterson returned to Mexico, where he remained 
mntil the close of the war. In person he is tall and soldi'Tly. 





BATTLE OF CONTRERAS. 



PERSIFER F. SMITH. 




HE hero of Contreras was Colonel P. F. Smith 
at that time a Brigadier-General by brevet. On 
the night preceding that brilliant victory, when 
even the boldest were beginning to despair, his 
heroic spirit was the salvation of his troops. Si- 
lently forming his men before daybreak, he made 
g^a short appeal to their courage, and then led 
j g^ them to that immortal charge which decided the 
day. 

Smith was born in Philadelphia, where his connexions still reside. 
His family was highly respectable. At a comparatively early age he 
left his native town and settled in Louisiana. An inclination for arms 
was always a prominent feature in his character. His first appearance 
m the field, however, was in the Florida war, where he commanded 
a body of volunteers, raised by requisition in Louisiana. He ac- 
quitted himself in this first campaign in the most creditable manner 
Indeed, to his conduct on this occasion, may be attributed the op 
portunity he has since enjoyed of acquiring rank and fame in the 
war with Mexico ; for Taylor, having formed a high estimate of his 
abihties in Florida, made it an especial request, when he called od 

M- w 29 241 



242 PERSIFER F. SMITH. 

the Governor of Louisiana for volunteers in 1846, that Smith should, 
if possible, accompany them. 

The organization of a new regiment, to be composed of mounted 
riflemen, about this time afforded the President of the United States 
an opportunity to place Smith in the regular army, by appointing 
him Colonel of the newly raised regiment. The encomium passed 
on him by Taylor assisted to procure him this appointment. This 
commission bears date the 27th of May, 1847. Smith joined the 
army immediately, and was present at the storming of Monterey. 
In this celebrated siege, he belonged to Worth's division. He was 
the hero of forts Federation and Soldado, which he carried by assault 
on the 21st of September, 1846. When the town capitulated he was 
appointed to receive the surrender of the citadel. For his manner 
in conducting the attack on the forts, and for his subsequent spirited 
conduct, Worth presented him to the consideration of the General- 
in-chief and through him to the government. The President accord- 
ingly bestowed on him the brevet of a Brigadier-General. 

Smith remained with Taylor until the siege of Vera Cruz was de- 
termined on, when he was among those detached to join General 
Scott. During the investment of that place, however, no opportu- 
nity was afforded him to distinguish himself At Cerro Gordo illness 
confined him to his bed, so that he could not share in the laurels of 
that day. His bold spirit chafed, at this forced inaction. The renown 
which he had already won only made him thirst for more. Fortune 
soon gratified his wishes. Scott having determined to turn the works 
at San Antonio, by crossing to Contreras and taking that position, 
which would open a route directly into their rear, despatched, 
Oh the 19th of September, the two divisions of Pillow and Twiggs, 
for this purpose. After a march of several miles the troops arrived 
m front of the hill at Contreras, which they found strongly fortified. 
A sharp action immediately ensued, which continued until nightfall, 
when the Americans drew off, leaving the enemy still in possession 
of the hill. The General-in-chief, knowing that it was impossible to 
do anything until morning, returned to head-quarters, leaving Smith's 
and Cadwalader's brigades to watch the foe, with the intention to 
renew the attack on the succeeding day. Pillow accompanied Scott, 
80 that Smith remained the highest officer in rank on the field. 

The night that followed may be considered the crisis of the cam- 
paign. The troops left in front of Contreras numbered only three 
thousand three hundred, and were destitute of artillery or cava.ty ; 
while the enemy were not less than eighteen thousand, and were 
besides fortified in a strong position, with more than twenty pieces 



PERSIFER P. SMITH. 243 

of cannon. The night, moreover, was one of incessant rain, and the 
men had neither shelter nor fire. They were separated from the 
main army by a distance of more than five miles, the intervening 
road being exceedingly difficult to traverse. Of several messengers 
despatched, on this critical night, but one succeeded in completing 
his journey. In these circumstances the spirits of the men drooped, 
and had they been commanded by a timorous officer, the most de- 
plorable consequences must have ensued. But fortunately the spirit 
of their leader was, firm and high.. Smith assumed a bold front and 
resolved to maintain his position, to use his own words, " by the 
most prompt and energetic action." He was sustained in this reso- 
lution by discovering that the intrenched camp on the hill was com- 
manded by a crest in the rear, which could be approached unseen 
through a ravine that ran behind it. His plan was to gain the crest, rush 
down into the fort, and thus surprise the key of the enemy's position. 

Having sent information to Scott of his plan. Smith proceeded to 
form his men. Just as he was about to begin the attack Shields 
came up, but though the superior officer, he declined to interfere. 
Accordingly Smith proceeded with his plans. His official report 
says : — " At precisely three o'clock in the morning of the 20th, 
the troops commenced their march. It had rained all night, and the 
men had lain in the mud, without fire, and suffering from cold. 
It rained now, and was so dark that an ol5ject six feet off could not 
be seen. The men were ordered to keep within toucn of each other, 
so that the rear oould not go astray. Lieutenant Tower, of the engi- 
neers, with Lieutenant Brooks, acting assistant Adjutant-General of 
the second division, now acting in my staff, had, during the night- 
reconnoitred the pass, to assure the practicability of the march. The 
path was narrow, full of rocks and mud, and so difficult was the 
march that it was daylight before the head of Cadwalader's brigade 
got out of the village, where the path descends to the ravine ; and 
as the march was by a flank, the command was stretched out thrice 
its length. Having followed up the ravine to a point where it seem 
ed possible to get at the rear of the work, the head was halted, and 
the rear closed up; many loads that were wet were drawn, and 
Riley formed two columns by divisions, 

" He thus advanced further up the ravine, turning to his left, and 
rising over the bank, stood fronting the rear of the work, but still 
sheltered from its fire by a slight acclivity before him. Having re- 
formed his ranks, he ascended the top of the hill, and was in full 
view of the enemy, who immediately opened a warm fire, not only 
from the work, but on his right flank. Throwing out his two first 



244 EERSIFER F. SMITH. 

divisions as skirmishers, he rushed down the slope to the work. Tho 
engmeer company and rifles had been thrown across an intervening 
ravine, under the brow of the slope, and from that position swept it 
in front of his column, and then, inclining towards their left, joined 
in the attack on the troops outside of the left bank of the fort. In 
the mean time. General Cadwalader followed the route taken by 
Riicy, and forming his columns as the troops came up, moved on to 
Riley's support. The first brigade had been ordered to follow the 
same route ; but, while it was still marching in that direction by its 
right flank up the ravine, and nearly opposite the work, seeing a 
large body of the enemy on its left flank, I ordered Major Dimock 
to face the brigade to the left, and, advancing in line, attack this 
force in fliink. This was done in the finest style, and the first artil- 
lery and third infantry, mounting the bank of the ravine, rushing 
down the next, and up its opposite bank, met the enemy outside of 
the work just as Riley's brigade poured into it, and the whole 
gave way. Cavalry, formed in line for the charge, yielded to the 
bayonets of our foot, and the rout was complete, while Riley's brigade 
cleared the work, and planted their colours on it." 

Smith subsequently participated, on the same day, in the assault 
on the hacienda at Churubusbo. Here, according to Scott's official 
report, he " directed the whole attack in front, with his habitual 
coolness and bravery." A portion of his regiment, towards the close 
of the contest, was detached to reinforce Shields, but he did not per- 
sonally accompany it. The garrison at the hacienda surrendered to 
the third infantry, belonging to Smith's division. In all the opera- 
tions of the day, from the assault on Contreras to the capitulation of 
Churubusco, Smith rendered himself conspicuous, and established his 
reputation not only as one of the bravest, but as one of the best 
general offijcers in the army. 

Smith was appointed one of the negotiators of the armistice. When 
hostilities were resumed he continued whh the division of Twiggs 
until after the battle of Molino del Rey. Before Scott, however, 
commenced his operations against Chapultepec, he withdrew Smith 
from his proper division and annexed him to Quitman's command: 
henccj in the assault on the castle, and in the battle at the Belen gate, 
Smith personally participated. In the oflicial report of those events 
his name is mentioned with high praise. 

In stature Smith is of the middle height. He is stout in frame, 
and active in his movements. His hair is light ; his eyes animated; 
and the expression of his countenance, intellectual. 




■HIELOg PUKSUiNS THE MEXICANS TOWARDS CHURUBCSCO. 



JAMES SHIELDS. 




HE heroism of Shields is 
as proverbial as his chival- 
rous sense of honor. At 
Cerxo Gordo, Churubusco, 
and Chapultepec he parti- 
cularly distinguished him- 
self, and in the first and 
last of these battles was 
severely wounded. 

Shields, like Patte.^son, 
is a native of Ireland, a 
country which has furnish- 
ed more gallant soldiers 
than any other of equal size on the globe. At an early age, how- 
ever, Shields emigrated lo America. His life here presented no 
M— w* 845 



246 JAMES SHIELDS. 

event worth recording, until his appointment as a Brigadier-Gen- 
eral on the commencement of the Mexican war. He was, at first, 
attached to the column of General Wool, and left it at Monclova, 
and joined Scott in the latter's expedition against Vera Cruz. 

In the battle of Cerro Gordo, Shields came, for the first time, into 
action. His orders were to seize the Jalapa roadj and place him- 
self in Santa Anna's rear. Accordingly, while Twiggs was engaged 
in storming the heights of Cerro Gordo, Shields pressed forward at 
the head of his volunteers. A fort, however, suddenly presenting 
itself in front, he resolved to assault it, and, while biavely leading 
his men, was, shot through the lungs. His recovery was, for a long 
while, considered doubtful ; but a strong constitution rallied against 
the disease, and he was finally restored to full health. For his con- 
duct at Cerro Gordo, he was mentioned in flattering terms in the 
official despatch. 

When the army left Puebla, in August, Shields was sufficiently 
recovered to resume his command. He was present at the actions 
of Contreras and Churubusco, and, in both, rendered the most 
important services. He did not arrive at Contreras until Smith had 
made all his arrangements for the attack of the 20th, and though 
Shields, as superior officer, had the right to assume the chief com- 
mand, he magnanimously refused to interfere. He remained, 
therefore, at the village, to intercept reinforcements, while Smith 
assaulted the hill ; and, after the intrenched camp was carried, cut 
off" the retreat of the fugitives. . At one point alone, his troops 
captured three hundred and sixty-five of the enemy, of whom twelve 
were officers, and among these latter was General Mendoza. 

Shields sOon received an order to advance by the main road on 
Mexico. Accordingly, he crossed the country to Churubusco. From 
this place he was detached, by the Commander-in-chief, to make a 
circuit over the meadows on the left, and throw himself between 
the village and capital. These orders he executed with equal 
promptitude and success. Scott, in his official report, says .• — " In 
a winding march of a mile around to the right, this temporary 
division found itself on the edge of an open wet meadow, near the 
road from San Antonio to the capital, and in the presence of some 
four thousand of the enemy's infantry, a little in rear of Churubusco, 
on that road. Establishing the right at a strong building. Shields 
extended his left, parallel to the road, to outflank the enemy towards 
the capital. But the enemy extending his right, supported by three 
thousand cavalry, more rapidly (being favored by better ground) in 
the same direction, Shields concentrated the division about a hamlet, 



JAMES SHIELDS. 




fi^^S^ \S^j^ Jmii JDl^'^'^<^■^■^ 



'-^ ' %^ ^m^mmr 




^^i§4#^^l 



STOKKING OK CHAI-XTLTEFEC. 



and determined to attack in front. The battle was long, hot, and 
varied; but, ultimately, success crowned the zeal and gallantry 
of our troops, ably directed by their distinguished commander, Bri- 
gadier-General Shields. 

" Shields took three hundred and eighty prisoners, including 
officers, and it cannot be doubted that the rage of the conflict 
between him and the enemy, just in the rear of the tete du point and 
the convent, had some influence on the surrender of those formida- 
ble defences. As soon as the tete du point was carried, the greater 
part of Worth's and Pillow's forces passed that bridge in rapid 
pursuit of the flying enemy. These distinguished Generals, coming 
up witli Brigadier-General Shields, now also victorious, the three 
continued to press upon the fugitives to within a mile and a half of 
the capital." 

In the battle of Molino del Rey, Shields was not present. At the 
storming of Chap ultepec, however, he fought with his brigade, under 
General Quitman. A portion of his command forced their way up 
the hill, and entered the castle side by side with the men of Pillow. 
Shields himself continued fighting on the causeway, and though 
severely wounded, pressed on, and remained in the field until the 



248 



JAMES SHIELDS. 



San Cosmo gate was carried. His conduct on this occasion is men 
tioned in the most flattering terms by the Commander-in-chie£ 
Perhaps, there is no other general officer in the army who evinces 
the same reckless daring when in battle, as Shields. 

The personal appearance of this gallant officer is very prepos- 
sessing. His figure is slight and elegant ; his countenance animated, 
pleasing and intellectual, and his manners pecuharly afiable and 
winning. 

In 1848, Shields was elected a United States Senator from the state 
of Illinois. 




*#^^ #^l 




DPNCAN AT MOLINO DEL RKT. 



JAMES DUNCAN 



HE war with Mexico nas proved be- 
yond cavi], the utihty of the MiUtary 
Academy at West Point. In every 
battle the pupils of that institution 
have been distinquished for their bra- 
very : in every campaign their skill 
and science have rendered the most 
signal services. Instead of following 
their men, they have uniformly led 
in the van. To them we owe 
much of that indomitable spirit which 
characterizes the American army. In 
1812, the privates were composed of 
the same material as now, but being 
commanded by timorous and ignorant 
officers, were almost uniformly beaten. It is not too much to say 
that we are indebted for every victory in the war with Mexico, from 

249 




250 JAMES DUNCAN. 

Palo Alto to Chapultepec, to the courage or skill of the cadets of 
West Point ! 

One of the most distinguished graduates of this academy, is James 
Duncan, of the light artillery, Lieutenant-Colonel by brevet. Among 
the younger officers he has no superior. Though brave to a 
fault, he is yet circumspect. Impetuous in character, he is, never- 
theless, cool in battle. With an intellect essentially mathematical, 
he is gifted, nevertheless, with an insight, which, in the field, acts 
like inspiration. 

Duncan was born in Orange county, N. Y., not far from the town 
of Newburg, in the year 1814. Being left an orphan at an early 
age, he was indebted to some influential friends for an appointment to a 
cadetship at West Point. In this institution he rose to be one of the 
most eminent of his class. He graduated in 1834, and was imme- 
diately brevetted a Second-Lieutenant in the second artillery. His 
first service was in the Florida war. Here he narrowly escaped 
with his life, a ball on one occasion striking the scales of his cap, 
and thus, by the distance of less than an inch, missing his brain. 
After his return from Florida, he was stationed on the lakes, where 
he remained during most of the disturbances in Canada. Subse- 
quently, he was transferred to Newport, R. L Here he brought his 
company to such a state of perfection, that it rivalled, if it did not 
surpass that of Ringgold. 

In April, 1846, Duncan was promoted to a Captaincy. He had 
now joined the army of General Taylor, and was present at both 
Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma. At the former battle, his com- 
pany of artillery was stationed on the left of the American line, and 
by a brilliant flank marioBuvre, at a critical period of the contest, 
assisted materially to win the day. It was by the fire of his batte- 
ries at Palo Alto, that the prairie was ignited, and it was under 
cover of the smoke that he made the movement which was so 
decisive. He is justly entitled to share the glory of that field with 
Ringgold, though the latter, in consequence of his death, has become 
the popular hero. At Resaca de la Palma, also, Duncan was of 
essential service. For his conduct on these two days, he was 
brevetted a Lieutenant-Colonel, 

At Monterey, Duncan served in the division of Worth. It was 
principally by the fire of his battery that the famous charge of 
lancers, on the morning of the 21st of September, was so speedily 
repulsed. In January, 1847, he was transferred to General Scott's 
army, so that he was not present at Buena Vista. With this excep- 
tion, however, and that of Contreras, he has been engaged in every 



JAMES DUNCAN. 851 

pitched battle during the war. Neither at the siege of Vera Cruz, 
however-, nor in the battle of Cerro Gordo, did he enjoy any pecu- 
liar opportunities of distinction. On the latter occasion, Worth's 
division, to which he belonged, was in reserve, and was not brought 
into service, except to participate in the pursuit. At Churubusco, 
however, he accompanied Worth in the assault on the tete du point, 
where his artillery, by sweeping the causeway, signally assisted the 
victory. Worth, in his official despatch, says : " Brevet Lieutenant- 
Colonel Duncan commanded and directed the light artillery, with 
the zeal and gallantry, judgment and effect, which have so often 
presented him to the notice of his General-in-chief and government." 
At the battle of Molino del Rey, the general direction of the 
artillery was committed to Duncan. The official report declares 
that "Lieutenant-Colonel Duncan having been charged with the 
general disposition of the artillery, executed that service with his 
usual talent, and then commanded and dictated the fire of his own 
battery with habitual eftect and results." Duncan's first position 
was on the slope leading down to Casa Mata, and here he remained, 
maintaining a withering fire, until the advance of Colonel Mcintosh's 
assaulting column masked his battery, when, perceiving a strong 
body of the enemy debouching on our extreme left, he galloped to 
that point. " The enemy's battery," says Worth, in his report, 
"came rapidlj^ within canister range, when the whole battery 
opened a most effective fire, which soon broke the squadrons, and 
drove them back in disorder. During this fire upon the enemy's 
cavalry, Major Summer's command moved to the front, and changed 
direction in admirable order, under a most appalling fire from the 
Casa Mata. This movement enabled his command to cross the 
ravine immediately on the left of Duncan's battery, where it 
remained, doing noble service, until the close of the action. At the 
very moment the cavalry were driven beyond reach, our own troops 
drew back from before the Casa Mata, and enabled the guns of 
Duncan's battery to re-open upon this position, which, after a short 
and well-directed fire, the enemy abandoned. The guns of the 
battery were now turned upon his retiring columns, and continued 
to play upon them until beyond reach." 

After Chapultepec had been carried, Duncan moved upon the 
city by the San Cosmo road. The fire of his guns was all efficient 
on this eventful day, in clearing the path not only for Worth, but 
for Quitman, the latter of whom he assisted by a flanking fire. In 
Hhe official despatch of this action, Duncan was favorably mentioned. 
In person, Duncan is medium size, well-knit, and with frame of 



252 



JAMES DUNCAN. 



great strength. His complexion and hair are dark. . His voice is 
indicative of the energy, rapidity, and decision of his character. 

On the death of Colonel Croghan, in January 1849, Duncan was 
appointed Inspector-General. He did not live long, however, to enjoy 
his new honors, dying on the 6th of July, 1849, at Mobile, Alabama- 





RttEy AT CONTRERAS. 



BENNET RILEY. 




HE glory of Contreras should be divi- 
ded between Smith, Riley, and Cad- 
walader, in the order named. It was 
the brigade of Riley which led the 
assault on Valencia's position, and 
gallantly carried it, after a short and 
decisive action. Idolized by his men, 
and respected by his fellow officers, 
Riley enjoys one of the most enviable 
reputations in the army. 

Riley was born in St. Mary's county, 
Md., about the year 1790. He entered the service as Ensign of For- 
syth's regiment of riflemen in 1813, and joined the army at Sackett's 
Harbor in the spring of that year. He served throughout the war 
with credit, and was favorably mentioned on several occasions by 
his commanding officers. At that time, no less than now, he was 
distinguished for heroic courage, coolness in battle, and great natu- 
ral sagacity. 

M— X 253 



254 BENNET RILEY. 

On the conclusion of peace, Riley remained in the service, an»^ 
was marched with his regiment to the Mississippi frontier. In 1821, 
the rifles were disbanded, when Riley was transferred to the infan- 
try, with the rank of Captain. While stationed .on the frontier, he 
was frequently called on to engage the Indians, and in 1823 
distinguished himself to such a degree, in a battle with the Anicko- 
rees, that he received the brevet of Major. In 1829, he was ordered 
to guard the caravan to Santa Fe, with directions afterwards to 
await the return of the traders. During their absence, he defeated 
the Indians in two pitched battles ; and subsequently, convoyed the 
merchants, with their treasures, safely to St. Louis. For his con- 
duct in this expedition, the legislature of Missouri voted him a 
sword. 

In 1831, Riley was despatched to the seat of the Black Hawk 
war. He served to the end of hostilities, and was in the final 
struggle, the battle of Bad-axe. In 1837, he was promoted to be a 
full Major, and in the succeeding year, was ordered to Florida. 
He saw but little service here, however, before he was removed, in 
the same year, to Fort Gibson. In December, 1839, he was made 
a Lieutenant- Colonel. He was now despatched a second time to 
Florida, where he remained until the spring of 1842, actively 
engaged in that difficult and sanguinary conflict. He was in the 
action of Chookachattee, in 1841, and behaved himself with such 
gallantry, that he received the brevet of a Colonel. Throughout the 
whole period, moreover, during which he served in Florida, he 
distinguished himself by his energy, promptitude, and courage. 

In July, 1846, Riley was ordered to Mexico, where a wider field 
of glory opened before him. He first distinguished himSelf at the 
battle of Cerro Gordo. Here he commanded a brigade, and by his 
activity and heroism, assisted in the defeat of the enemy. When, on 
the 7th of August, the army set forward from Puebla, for Mexico, 
Riley was assigned the second brigade of the second division. 
Arriving in front of Contreras, on the afternoon of the 19th of August, 
he played a prominent part in the action that followed, and which 
was terminated only by night. It was in this action that Riley 
proved the discipline and coolness of his brigade ; for, being charged 
by the enemy's lancers in overwhelming force, he remained 
unmoved. Twice this splendid cavalry, in number several thousand, 
thundered upon him ; twice he thr ^w his btigade into square, and 
receiving the assailants with a rolliiig volley, repulsed them in 
disorder. A third time they attempted the charge, but now, after 
delivering his volley; Riley ordered his men to follow with the 



BENNET RILEY. 255 

Dayonet, on which the Mexicans fled in the wildest confusion, and 
abandoned all further attempts. For the skill and daring he 
evinced on this occasion, Riley received the commendations of the 
Commander-in-chief, in the official report of the action. 

But it was in the assault of the intrenched camp, on the succeed- 
ing morning, that Riley won his brightest laurels. The plan of the 
attack having been arranged by Smith, and the attack on Valencia's 
position been confided to Riley, the latter placed himself at the head 
of his brigade, and stealing into the ravine in the rear of the fort, 
formed his men into column of attack. Then, after a laconic 
harangue, he led them to the charge. At a rapid pace they rushed up 
the acchvity which separated them from the foe, and arriving at the 
top, beheld the soldiers of Valencia in their intrenchments below. 
The Mexicans, little expecting an assault in their rear, were looking 
out in front for the appearance of the Americans, when suddenly a 
wild yell from the crest of the hill behind, attracted their attention, 
and turning around, they beheld Riley rushing down upon them. 
Consternation immediately seized the soldiers of Valencia. In vain 
their leader strove to inspire them ; in wild affright they broke and 
fled, with scarcely the. show of resistance. In a few minutes the 
action was over. Scott, in his official report, says of this brilliant 
affair : " The opportunity afforded to Colonel Riley by his position, 
was seized by that gallant veteran with all the skill and energy for 
which he is distinguished. The charge of his noble brigade down 
the slope, in full view of friend and foe, unchecked even for a 
moment, until he had planted all his colors upon their furthest works, 
was a spectacle that animated the army to the boldest deeds." 

Riley, on the same day, played a conspicious part at Churubusco, 
where he was engaged in the assau't )f the hacienda. For his 
behavior in this action, he was again complimented by Scott, as 
well as by the commanding officer of his division, Twiggs. 

Riley was not present either at Molino del Rey or Chapultepec ; 
his brigade being retained under Twiggs, at the gates on the Tacu- 
baya road. The services he and his fellow soldiers performed here, 
though less brilliant than those rendered at the Chapultepec road, 
were quite as important, for without the diversion thus effected, the 
capital would not have fallen. In consequence of his efficiency 
throughout the campaign, but especially in token of his heroism at 
Contreras, Riley has received the brevet of Brigadier-General. 

In person, Riley is tall and rather slim. His face presents the 
beau ideal of a veteran soldier. He wears his whiskers, which are 
iron grey, trimmed up to his eyes, while a scar upon his counte 



BENNET RILET. 



nance adds to his military aspect. Owing to an affection of this 
palate, his voice is peculiar. He is adored by his soldiers, who feel 
competent for anything, " if old Riley," as he is familiarly termed 
is with them. 





GBITERAL QtTITMAN AT THE GARITA DK BELEN. 



JOHN A. QUITMAN. 




HE glory of being the first American 
commander to enter the city of Mexico, 
belongs to John A. Quitman. Major- 
General in the United States army. 
At the head of his heroic division, he 
fought his way into the capital, on the 
evening of the 13th of September, 
1847, and, on the succeeding morning, 
advanced to the great square, and hoisted the American flag on the 
palace of the Montezumas. 

Quitman was born at Rhinebeck, in the state of New York, on 
riie 1st of September, 1799. His father was a Prussian clergyman, 
who had emigrated to this country, and was, at the period of his 
son's birth, pastor of a Dutch Reformed Church in Rhinebeck. The 
early education of Quitman was received at Cooperstown, in his 
native state. Subsequently, he was transferred to a college then 
existing at Mount Airy, near Philadelphia, where he pursued his 
studies for several years, in compliance with the wish of his parents 
M — w* 30 257 



258 JOHN A. QUITMAN. 

that he should qualify himself for the Christian ministry. A grow- 
ing disinclination for so momentous a profession, however, induced 
him to turn his attention to the law. In 1820, accordingly, he 
prepared himself for the bar, and immediately emigrated to the 
west, there to try his fortune. 

He first settled in Chilicothe, Ohio, where, during the year of 
probation required before he was allowed to practice, he filled the 
post of clerk in the land office. He did not remain long, how- 
ever, in Ohio, but, after practising about six months, removed to 
Natchez, in Mississippi. Here his fine abilities, his superior educa- 
tion, and his knowledge of the profession he had adopted, soon 
secured to him, not only a lucrative business, but a position in the 
best society of the state. Having married the daughter of a wealthy 
planter, his influence and fortune were considerably increased. He 
served, for some time, in the Legislature, and in 1828, was made 
Chancellor of the state. In 1832, he was chosen one of the members 
of the Convention to revise the Constitution. In 1835, he was 
elected President of the Senate, and soon after, the Governor dying, 
he became the acting executive of Mississippi. His civil career has 
been, therefore, only less brilliant than his military one. 

At an early period of his manhood, Quitman began to evince a 
predilection for arms. While in Ohio, he was chosen Lieutenant of 
a rifle company, chiefly in consequence of his skill with the rifle, in 
managing which he had few rivals. On his removal to Natchez, he 
was elected Captain of the Natchez Fencibles, one of the oldest 
volunteer companies in Mississippi. In 1836, while acting Go- 
vernor of the state, he marched at the head of a company, formed 
for the purpose, to the assistance of the Texans. He arrived, at the 
head-quarters of General Houston, to his chagrin three days after 
the battle of San Jacinto. On his return, he was elected Major- 
General of the second division of Mississippi militia, an office he 
continued to occupy, until, on the first of July, 1846, he was 
appointed a Brigadier-General in the United States volunteer force, 
and directed to march to the relief of Taylor. He immediately 
repaired to the army of occupation, which he reached in time to 
participate in the operations against Monterey. 

On that occasion Quitman commanded the second brigade of 
volunteers, composed of the Mississippi, Tennessee, Ohio, and Balti- 
more regiments. He was stationed on the western side of the town, 
immediately under the eye of the Commander-in-chief In the first 
day's operations, he carried a battery of the enojgtiy, which had 
proved so formidable, that a retrograde movement was about to be 



JOHN A. QUITMAN. 259 

ordered, when Quitman's successful assault rendered it unnecessary 
In the third day's action he was even more efficient. On this 
occasion, his troops, assisted by the Texas regiment, were the first 
to enter the town. Fighting their way, street by street, the volun- 
teers of Quitman finally approached the great square, and would, on 
the succeeding day, have carried their victorious aVms to the very 
heart of Monterey, if a suspension of arms, in anticipation of a 
capitulation, had not been ordered. In the official report, Taylor 
says : " During the night of the 22d, the enemy evacuated nearly 
all his defences in the lower part of the city. This was reported to 
me only in the morning of the 22d, by General Quitman, who had 
already meditated an assault upon those works. I immediately 
sent instructions to that officer, leaving it to his discretion to enter 
the city, covering his men by the houses and walls, and advance 
carefully so far as he might deem prudent." And again : «' Our 
troops advanced from house to house, and from square to square,, 
until they reached a street but one square in the rear of the princi- 
pal plaza, in, and near which the enemy's force was mainly 
concentrated. This advance was conducted vigorously, but with 
due caution, and although destructive to the enemy, was attended 
with but small loss on our part." Both Taylor and Butler, speak in 
their official correspondence, in the highest terms of Quitman's 
conduct at Monterey. 

It was, however, in the campaign against the capital, that he was 
destined to win his proudest laurels. Having been ordered to join 
General Scott's expedition against Vera Cruz, Quitman, with his 
brigade, took leave of the army of Taylor, and accompanied his 
new General to the island of Lobos. In the siege of Vera Cruz, he 
performed much laborious service, and was complimented by Scott, 
as well as by Patterson, for his conduct. He was not present at the 
battle of Cerro Gordo. On the 14th of April, 1847, he was promoted 
to the rank of Major- General. In the battle of Churubusco, he was 
left in the rear to guard the depot, an honorable post, but one which, 
as it prevented his sharing in the combat, filled him with chagrin. He 
secretly resolved, if occasion offered, to recompense himself for this 
disappointment. Accordingly, when on the 13th of September, the 
attack on Chapultepec was ordered, and the command of one of the 
assaulting columns given to Quitman, he advanced with such 
impetuosity and courage, as to triumph over every difficulty. " Quit- 
man," says Scott, in his official report of the assault, "had to 
approach the south-east of the works over a causeway, with cuts 
and batteries, and defended by an army strongly posted outside, to 



260 ^ JOHN A. QUITMAN. 

the east of the works. These formidable obstacles he had to face, 
with but little shelter for his troops, or space for manoeuvreing. 
Deep ditches flanking the causeway, made it difficult to cross on 
either side, into the adjoining meadows, and these again were inter- 
sected by other ditches.'' Yet over all these obstacles, Quitman 
fought his way; so that a detachment of his column entered Chapul- 
tepec side by side with Pillow's division. 

The castle having fallen, Quitman, pursuant to orders, advanced 
along the road, which led from the foot of the hill to the Belen gate. 
The intention of Scott, was that Quitman's attack should be a feint, 
and that Worth's, by the San Cosmo road, should be the real one. 
" These views," says Scott in his official report, " I repeatedly, in the 
course of the day, communicated to Major-General Quitman ; but, 
being in hot pursuit — gallant himself, and ably supported by Briga- 
dier-Generals Shields and Smith — Shields badly wounded before 
Chapultepec, and refusing to retire — as well as by all the officers 
and men of the column — Quitman continued to press forward, under 
flank and direct fires, carried an intermediate battery of two guns, 
and then the gate, before two o'clock in the afternoon." During 
the terrible struggle which marked this advance, the General 
himself behaved with the utmost heroism. An aqueduct ran along 
the road, in the arches of which the men temporarily sheltered 
themselves. As they rushed from arch to arch, they were riddled by 
the enemy's fire ; yet they fought their way forward in this manner 
until they reached the gate, which they stormed, and carried. The 
loss of life in this gallant assault, was very great. Perhaps, if Scott's 
plan had been adhered to, the city would have fallen with less blood- 
shed ; but it is impossible to judge severely the pardonable heroism 
of Quitman and his chivalrous corps. 

The garita having been carried, Quitman dashed forward, and 
occupied the arches of the aqueduct, within the gates. The struggle 
had been so fierce, that all the ammunition of the heavy guns was 
expended ; but a captured eight-pounder was turned on the enemy, 
who retreated still further before the incessant discharges of that 
piece. Foremost in the pursuit pressed Captain Drum, of the artil- 
lery, until he fell mortally wounded. A few minutes after. Lieuten- 
ant Benjamin, of the same corps, met a similar fate. Inflamed by 
this sight, the Americans fought with greater fury than ever, 
cheering and firing by turns. About three hundred yards distant 
was a strong stone-work, called the citadel, from which a terrible 
fire of artillery was now opened, while simultaneously, from the 
batteries on the Paseo, and the buildings on the right, streams of 



JOHN A. QUITMAN. 261 

grape and musket balls were poured on the Americans. So terrific 
was this iron shower, that the men were forced to keep under cover, 
nor could any one" venture to bring up ammunition for the larger 
guns. Quitman, conspicuous by his tall form, stimulated his fol- 
lowers continually, his loud clear voice rising like a peal of thunder 
above the tempest of the battle. 

Several times the Mexicans, supported by their artillery, rallied 
from the citadel, and endeavored to regain possession of the garita, 
but the unerring aim of the American rifles drove them back on 
every occasion. Meantime, Quitman, finding his flank suff"ering 
severely from the musketry at the Paseo, detached Captain Naylor, 
of the second Pennsylvania regiment, about a hundred yards in that 
direction, with orders to throw up a sand-bag defence. The men 
rushed forward immediately, in the face of a withering fire, and 
seized the position, which they held in the face of a most sanguinary 
operation, until night ft;ll upon the scene of combat. With the 
approach of darkness, the firing ceased on both sides. The hours 
devoted to sleep, Quitman spent in strengthening his position, and 
when morning dawned, had frec.tp.d a formidable battery, and was 
prepared to renew the struggle on the most advantageous terms. 

But, meantime, Santa Anna had fled, and with him the Mexican 
army. The city lay at the mercy of the invaders. In consideration of 
Quitman having been the first to force a passage into the town, 
Scott assigned to the corps of that General the much coveted honor 
of planting the American flag on the national palace. Accordingly, the 
division of Worth was halted at a park called the Alameda, within 
three squares of the grand plaza; while Quitman's, advancing 
simultaneously from the Belen gate, proceeded triumphantly to the 
heart of the city, and hoisted the flag of the United States on the 
halls of the Montezumas. The task of elevating the standard of 
America, was entrusted to Captain Roberts, of the rifle regiment, 
.who had signally distinguished himself the preceding day. This 
flag, the first strange banner which had waved in that place sinct- 
the days of Cortez, was saluted with enthusiasm as it unrolled its 
folds in the morning sky. About eight o'clock, Scott rode into the 
great square, where he was received with tumultuous huzzas. Ones 
of the Commander-in-chief's first acts, on taking possession of the 
captured city, was to appoint Quitman its Military Governor. 

Quitman, in the following November, obtained leave of absence, 
and returned to the United States. He left behind him the reputa- 
tion of being distinguished alike for his courage, and for his abilities. 
In his deportment towards the soldiers, he was peculiarly affable 5 it 



262 



JOHN A. QUITMAN. 



is said no complainant was ever turned away unheeded. Few 
general officers, were, in consequence, more esteemed by the men. 
The character of Quitman is precise, strong-willed, and occasionally 
stern. Out of the line of the army, he has, perhaps, no superior as 
a General. 

Quitman is over six feet high, and stout in proportion. His hair 
is a wiry iron grey, somewhat given to curl ; his forehead high and 
arching ; his eye grey, small and piercing ; and his countenance em- 
browned by exposure. His figure is erect. In address he is grave 
and serious. He is rigid in exacting, as in performing promises. In 
social intercourse he is frank, kind and agreeable. 





GENEKAE LANES ENCOUNTER WITH THE MEXICANS NEAR ATLIXCO 



JOSEPH LANE. 




OSEPH LANE,aBrigadier- 
Gene];al in the army of the 
United States, had the good 
fortune to be third in com- 
mand at Buena Vista, and 
throughout the whole of that critical 
day, displayed equal heroism and skill 
He subsequently commanded in chief 
at the battle of Huamantla, and after- 
wards at the siege of Atlixco. 

Lane was born in North Carolina, 
but, like many other adventurous spi- 
rits, emigrated to the west. He settled in Indiana, and in his new 
home soon rose to influence. When the war with Mexico began, 
he was, unexpectedly to himself, commissioned as a Brigadier-Gen- 
eral of volunteers. His republican manners and sterling sense 
soon made him popular with his soldiers. Having organized 
his command, he was directed to join Wool, and accompany that 
leader in his contemplated expedition against Chihuahua. He 

263 



864 JOSEPH LANE. 

accordingly marched to Parras, and subsequently to Saitillo. At 
this latter place Wool's column arrived towards the close of 1846. 
In the succeeding February, the great battle of Buena Vista was 
fought, and here Lane won his first laurels. 

It fell to the lot of this General, at the head of the second Indiana 
regiment, to receive the first shock of the conflict. Lane had been 
posted, on the evening of the 22d, in a comparatively strong position, 
but finding, when the action opened on the succeeding morning, that 
his infantry was placed at too great a distance from the enemy for 
its fire to be effective, he took the bold resolution of advancing, 
which he did, at the head of but four hundred men, assisted by 
O'Brien's battery. The ground he now occupied was very strong, 
but the measure, nevertheless, had nearly proved fatal to the Ameri- 
cans. O'Brien, indeed, gallantly advanced, but the infantry failed 
to support him, and in the end, the whole of Lane's forces gave way, 
O'Brien losing one of his guns. A few of the retreating detachment 
fled from the field entirely, but the greater portion rallied, and 
fought afterwards with heroism. Before they retired, however, they 
had withstood the fire of four thousand infantry in front, and tha]t of 
a battery on their flank, nor did they give way until each man had 
discharged twenty rounds of cartridges. 

The retrea,t was caused not by any want of courage on the part 
of the men, but by the misconception of an order. Lane had intended 
to charge, but his subordinate, Colonel Bowles, misunderstanding his 
wishes, directed the soldiers to fall back. Those who were within 
sound of his voice, accordingly began a retreat. But others, who 
had not heard the order, refused to leave their ground, and called 
earnestly on the remainder to stand fast. For a while many hesitated, 
but the retrograde movement finally became general. It is impossi- 
ble to say what would have been the result if Lane had charged. 
There is a possibility that the enemy would have been repulsed, but 
it is much more probable that the Americans would have perished 
to a man. An interval of three-quarters of a mile intervened 
between them and support ; what, under such circumstances, could 
four hundred achieve against four thousand ? It is said, however, 
that Wool expressed the opinion subsequent to the battle, that if the 
charge had been made, it would have been crowned with success ; 
for, Santa Anna, disheartened by the determined resistance of Lane, 
was about to pass the order to retreat. Colonel Bowles, on whom 
the chief censure rested, was not, however, a coward ; all unite in testi 
fying to his bravery -, but he seems to have been incapacitated for 
his station, and to have wanted the confidence of his men. Some 



JOSEPH LANE. 261 

of his regiment joined the Mississippians later in the day, and undei 
their self-elected flag, performed prodigies of valor. 

It was towards the close of the action, and when the last charge 
of the enemy on our left was made, that Lane, though wounded, 
particularly distinguished himself. The third Indiana, the Missis- 
sippians, and the second Indiana, here withstood a charge of nearly 
five thousand Mexicans. The aspect of the enemy's lancers as they 
bore down upon this small band, in solid column, was magnificent 
in the extreme. They came on at first in a trot, their lances glitter- 
ing and their many-colored pennons waving aloft : then, accelerating 
their pace to a gallop, with lances poised and lines dressed, they 
rushed forward unopposed until within twenty paces of the Ameri- 
cans. The latter had been ordered to reserve their fire. But now 
Lane, rising in his stirrups, shouted " Give it to them, my lads !" 
Instantly the whole line was a blaze of fire. As the smoke cleared 
off, the enemy were seen wheeling to fly, while whole platoons of 
fallen men and horses strewed the ground. A second and third 
volley completed the confusion of the enemy, who fled in the 
greatest disorder. The Americans now advanced, Lane riding in 
their front exclaiming exultingly, " We'll whip them yet." Crossing 
the brow of a hill on their right, they threw themselves into the 
combat just as Bragg had repulsed the final charge of the foe, and by 
coming up at this opportune moment, assisted to complete the rout. 

Subsequently, Lane was detached to the army of Scott. On the 
9th of October, 1847, he fought the battle of Huamantla, when on 
his way from Vera Cruz to the interior. His forces consisted of 
Wynkoop's battalion, Gorman's Indiana regiment, Heintzleman's 
battalion of six companies, four companies of mounted men, and five 
pieces of artillery. The action was principally fought by Captain 
Walker, at the head of the mounted men, who penetrated into the 
town in advance of the rest of the army, and completely routed the 
foe. The victory, however, was saddened by the loss of Walker, 
who received a mortal wound at the close of the strife. The 
arrangements of Lane for the attack were admirable, for, simulta- 
neously with his order to Walker to advance, he had directed half his 
force to ■ the west, and half to the east of the town, in order to cut off 
the enemy's retreat. The impetuosity of Walker's charge, however, 
drove the Mexicans from the town. They were soon reinforced, 
but the American infantry coming up, the whole body of the enemy 
took to flight. 

Nine days after, Lane captured the strong town of Atlixco. The ene- 
my were first met several miles in advance of the city, when a running 

M Y 



266 



JOSEPH LANE. 



fight commenced, in which the American cavalry principally parti 
cipated. At last the Mexicans were driven back upon the town. 
Night had now fallen. Considering it inexpedient to risk a street 
fight in a strange city in the darkness, Lane posted his artillery on a hill 
overlooking Atlixco, and opened a fire. "Now," he says in his 
official report," ensued one of the most beautiful sights conceivable. 
Every gun was served with the utmost rapidity ; and the crash of 
the walls and the roofs of the houses, when struck by our shot and 
shell, was mingled with the roar of our artillery. The bright light 
of the moon enabled us to direct our shots to the most thickly 
populated part of the town. After firing three-quarters of an hour, 
and the firing from the town having ceased, I ordered Major Lally 
and Colonel Brough to advance cautiously with their commands 
into the town. On entering, I was waited upon by the ayunta- 
miento, desiring that their town might be spared." 

This victory completely broke up the guerillas in that vicinity, for 
Atlixco had ever been their head-quarters, and from it numerous 
predatory expeditions had been fitted out. 

Lane is simple and unpretending in manners, and a man of great 
natural abilty, though devoid to some extent, of the advantages of 
education. 





GIDEON J. PILLOW. 




IDEOxN J. PILLOW, a Major- 
General in the United States 
army, was born on the 10th of 
June, 1806, in WiUiamson coun- 
ty, Tennessee. His family was 
one which had greatly distinguished itself 
in the Indian wars of the south-west. Pil- 
low graduated at the University of Nash- 
ville in 1827. In October, 1829, he was 
admitted to the bar, and soon acquired an 
extensive practice. In 1831, he was appointed Inspector- General 
of the Tennessee militia. With this exception, up to the period of 
his appointment to th^ army, he engaged in no public employment* 

267 




268 



GIDEON S. PILLOW. 



but contented himself with the enjoyment of that private ease for 
which an ample fortune qualified him. 

After the fall of Monterey, Pillow joined Taylor, at the head of 
a brigade of the twelve months volunteers. He was among the 
Generals selected to accompany Scott to Vera Cruz, at which place 
accordingly he first saw service. On the fall of the city he was one 
of the three commissioners appointed, on the part of the Americans, 
to arrange a capitulation. Subsequently, he commanded a division 
at Cerro Gordo. His task, in this battle, was to carry the batteries 
in the American front, while Twiggs, making a circuit, stormed the 
stronger forts in the rear. Owing to accidental circumstances Pil- 
low failed in his attack ; but the employment he gave the enemy 
assisted indirectly in the victory. 

On the 13th of April, 1847, Pillow was commissioned a Major- 
General. He was present on the afternoon of the 19th of August, 
in the preliminary operations at Contreras, but was absent on the 
following morning, when Smith made his decisive attack. At Churu- 
busco Pillow combatted in person, being the second in command. 
At Chapultepec he led one of the storming parties, and was wounded 
in the assault. In all these operations he proved himself a brave man. 

In reference, however, to his skill as a General a warm contro- 
versy has existed ever since he entered the army : a fate natural 
to all civilians, who, without peculiar merit, are elevated suddenly 
to the highest military rank. His claims to renown in arms can only 
be decided by posterity. 





NATIONAL BRIDGE. 




Ilp4^^ 



GEORGE GADWALADER 



HE renown of arms may be con- 
sidered hereditary in the Cadwal 
ader family, the present General 
being the third in hneal descent 
who has won military distinction. 
John Cadwalader, the grand- 
father of the present General, was 
a citizen of large estate in Phila- 
delphia, at the period \\\en the 
war of independence begac. En- 
tering ardently into the cause of 
the colonies, he formed a comf any, 
composed chiefly of yomig men 
of the best families of the place, 
who, on that account, were called 
"the silk-stocking company."— 
When the British had overrun 
New Jersey in the autumn of 
1776, and were daily threatening to cross the Delaware and seize 
M-Y* 269 




JJ70 GEORGE CADWALADER. 

Philadelphia, Cadwalader was one of those who remained true to 
the cause of his country. It was, in a measure, through his exer- 
tions that the Pennsylvania militia were so promptly brought into 
the field to meet the crisis. Washington always spoke of his con- 
duct in that emergency with warm praise. Subsequently, when it 
was determined to raise a cavalry force, Cadwalader was offered the 
command of it, with the rank of General in the continental line ; but 
the alliance with France having just been concluded, he believed 
the war nearly at an end, and accordingly declined the honor. He 
died in 1786. 

His son, Thomas Cadwalader, succeeded, not only to his father's 
estates, but to his military rank, being elected, in due course of time, 
Major-General of the first division of Pennsylvania militia. No op- 
portunity was afforded this gentleman, to win the shining renown 
which his sire had obtained in the campaign of 1776. Affable, 
honorable and brave, however, he obtained the esteem of his fellow 
citizens, as well as the enthusiastic veneration of the volunteers he* 
commanded. 

George Cadwalader, the subject of this sketch, was the second son 
of Thomas Cadwalader. More fortunate than his father, or even 
than his grandsire, he has attained, at a comparatively early age, 
the rank of Brigadier-General in the United States army. From 
his earliest years, he evinced a decided predilection for arms. 
This taste a large fortune allowed him to gratify. He 'formed and 
drilled, chiefly at his own expense, two volunteer companies, 
one of infantry and another of artillery. He soon acquired the 
reputation of being the best amateur officer in the United States. 
His company of artillery was second only to those of Ringgold and 
Duncan, and inferior, perhaps, merely in the training of the horses. 
His courage was known to be of the most unflinching character, 
having been displayed, at the head of the troops, during the terrible 
riots in Philadelphia in 1844. 

When the war with Mexico began, he promptly offered his artil- 
lery corps to the government, expressing his willingness to serve 
with it whenever ordered to the field. The department, however, 
did not accept the tender ; but the patriotism of Cadwalader was not 
forgotten. Subsequently, when the bill for raising a force of volun- 
teers to serve during the war was passed, the commission of a Bri- 
gadier-General was bestowed on him by the President of the United 
States. His appointment bears date March 3rd, 1847. He imme- 
diately repaired to the seat of war, where he had the good fortune 
to be present in every battle of note, from the time ne joined the 
army to the fall of the capital. 



GEORGE CADWALADER. 



271 



The first affair in which Cadwalader distinguished himself in 
Mexico was a skirmish at the national bridge, during his march to join 
Scott at Puebla. Colonel Mcintosh had started with a train for the 
interior, but being attacked by an overpowering force of the enemy, 
had been forced to await the arrival of Cadwalader, who, hearing of 
his danger, hurried up, with eight hundred men, to his succor. On ap- 
proaching the national bridge, Cadwalader, at the head of the united 
forces, seized some heights which the enemy had previously occu- 
pied. He was here attacked by a strong force, but made good his 
defence, charging the Mexicans incessantly, until their strength was 
broken, when the bridge was passed in safety. In this action the 
foe lost one hundred in killed and wounded : Cadwalader about fifty. 




GENERAL CADWALADER DEFEATING THE MEXICANS AT THE NATIONAL BRIDGE. 



This victory was won principally by artillery, a species of force with 
which Cadwalader was perfectly familiar. 

In the action of the 15th of August, 1847, in front of Contreras, 



272 GEORGE CADWALADEH. 

as well as in the grand assault on the intrenched camp on the follow- 
ing morning, Cadwalader played a conspicuous part. Riley had been 
ordered to interpose between the village and the fortified hill, and 
Cadwalader was despatched to support him. Cadwalader, however, 
on reaching the village, saw Santa Anna advancing to the relief of 
the hill, on which, instead of following Riley, he seized the village, 
knowing that the Mexican General must march through it or matte 
a long circuit through the mountains. On perceiving Cadwalader's 
firm front, Santa Anna halted. This movement of the American 
General prevented the intrenched camp being reinforced, and 
exercised a material influence on the events of the succeeding day. 

Pillow, in his official report, speaks thus of this affair :-— " About 
this time, Brigadier-General Cadwalader's command had also 
crossed the plain, when some five thousand or six thousand troops 
of the enemy were observed moving rapidly from the direction of 
the capital to the field of action. Colonel Morgan, with his large 
and fine regiment, which I had caused to be detached from the rear 
of Pierce's brigade, was now ordered to the support of Cadwalader, 
by direction of the General-in-chief, who had now arrived upon the 
field. This General, having discovered this large force moving 
upon his right flank, and to the rear, with decided military tact and 
promptitude, threw back his right wing, and confronted the enemy, 
with the intention to give him battle, notwithstanding his over- 
whelming force. This portion of the enemy's force moved steadily 
forward until a conflict seemed inevitable, when Colonel Morgan's 
regiment, having reached this part of the field, presented a front so 
formidable, as to induce the enemy to change his purpose, and draw 
ofl" to the right and rear of his former position." 

On the ensuing morning Cadwalader commanded the reserve. 
Smith, in the official account, says : '^Brigadier-General Cadwalader 
brought his corps up from his intricate bivouac in good order, foriried 
the head of .his column to support Riley's, and led it forward in the 
most gallant style, under the fire directed at the latter." Pillow, in 
his report, sums up the part taken by Cadwakider in these two 
actions, as follows : " Brigadier-General Cadwalader displayed great 
judgment, high military skill, and heroic courage, in the manner in 
which he met the sudden and trying emergency, when all parties 
were in great anxiety for the safety of his comparatively small com- 
mand, when about to be assailed by the overwhelming reinforce- 
ments of the enemy on the preceding evening; and also in the 
manner in which he brought up his command to the support of the 
gallant Riley.'' 



GEORGE CADWALADER. 273 

At Churubusco, later on the same day, he behaved with equal 
bravery and skill, assisting in the assanit of the tete du point. Pillow 
says of his conduct on this occasion, in conjunction with that of 
Pierce : — " I cannot withhold the expression of my sense of the 
deep obligations I am under for the success and honor due to my 
command, to my gallant Brigadier-Generals, whose promptitude, 
skill, and daring, were equal to every emergency, and who, in the 
absence of discipline in their commands, met and overcame every 
obstacle, and led on their brigades to honor and distinction." 

It was at Molino del Rey, however, that Cadwalader won his 
brightest laurels. In this battle "he commanded the reserve, and 
when the column which assaulted the enemy's centre was repulsed, 
and defeat appeared for a moment inevitable, he advanced with 
such impetuosity to its relief, that the enemy fell back in confusion, 
and the works were carried. Worth, in the official report of the 
battle, says : — '^ I desire to bring to the notice of the General-in-chief 
the gallantry and conduct of Brigadier-General Cadwalader and his 
command, by which the most timely and essential service was 
rendered in supporting the attack, and following up the success. 
Such movements as he was directed to make were executed with 
zeal and promptness." 

The charge made by Cadwalader's brigade, especially by the 
eleventh, under Colonel William Graham, who died pierced with 
seven wounds while marching at its head, was, perhaps, the most 
terrible in the whole war, not even excepting that at Chapultepec, 
though the latter has generally been given the precedence. The 
glory of this one day would be sufficient for an ordinary reputation 

At Chapultepec, Cadwalader, as second in command, succeeded 
to the direction of the assault, after Pillow had been wounded. 
When the place fell, it was to him General Bravo surrendered his 
sword. Cadwalader's official account of this affair is modest. " The 
moment the ladders were in position," he says, "all pressed for- 
ward, and the fortress was taken by storm, amid the loud cheers of 
our energetic and gallant troops. 

" Second-Lieutenant Charles B. Brower, of the New York volun- 
teers, brought General l^ravo, the commander of the enemy's forces, 
to me, who surrendered to me his sword, and I left him under a 
suitable guard, as a prisoner of war. 

" The Mexican flag, which floated over the fortress, and which 
had been previously three times shot down by our artillery, was 
hauled down, and handed to me, by Major Thomas H. Seymour, of 
the ninth regiment. I have the honor to send the flag herewith. 

31 



274 



GEORGE CADWALADER. 



« A train of hose, leading to mines intended to blow up our 
forces, in case we should succeed in the capture of the work, was 
discovered and destroyed. Private William A. Gray, of Captain 
Blair's company of voltigeurs, first discovered, and assisted to 
destroy it." 

After the fall of the capital, and the return of many of his senior 
officers to the United States, Cadwalader was assigned to the com- 
mand of a division. He led an expedition directed against some of 
the western provinces, with his usual sagacity, promptitude, and in- 
defatigability. 

Cadwalader is one of the handsomest men in the army. His 
person is tall and soldierly. He has dark hair and eyes ; a bold, 
aquiline nose, and a mouth indicative of great resolution. The 
expression of his countenance is martial, yet highly pleasing. 

For his conduct in the battles around Mexico, Cadwalader was bre- 
vetted a Major-General. 





HARNEY AT CERHO GORDO. 



W. S. HARNEY 



HE name of Harney has 
acquired a brilliant celebri- 
ty in thfc Mexican war. Its 
possessor is one of the most 
extraordinary men in the 
army. 

Harney v/as born in Lou- 
isiana, about the year 1798. 
He entered the army as 
Second-Lieutenant of in- 
fantry in 1818. Subse- 
quently he was appointed 
paymaster of his regiment, 
and when the second dra- 
goons were organized, exchanged into them, with the rank of 
Lieutenant-Colonel He served, with his new command, in the Flo 
lida war, until compelled by ill health temporarily to abandon his 
post. In 1840 he received the brevet of a Colonel, and returned 
to duty, and in the summer of that year rendered himself notorious by 
executing a party of Seminoles captured by him in the Everglades, 

275 




276 W. S. HARNET. 

Wlien the Mexican war began, Harney, at the head of his regi- 
ment, was ordered to join General Wool. He was now raised to the 
rank of full Colonel, and in that capacity accompanied the expedi- 
tion against Monclova. Subsequently, when Scott undertook the 
siege of Vera Cruz, Harney was directed to remain on the Rio 
Grande, at the head of four companies of his dragoons, while his 
Lieutenant-Colonel, with six companies, was ordered to join the army 
of Scott. Indignant that an inferior officer, and one who hatl seen compa- 
ratively little service, should supplant him thus, Harney refused to 
obey, and was accordingly arrested, arraigned, and tried by a court- 
martial. The punishment inflicted on him, however, was nominal. 
He gained his purpose, and joined the army of Scott. 

The first occasion on which he distinguished himself after the 
landing at Vera Cruz, was at a skirmish on the 25th of March, near 
the Madelina river, in which, with Summer's dragoons, Ker's dis- 
mounted cavalry, two guns, and a few volunteers from the Ten- 
nessee regiment, he totally routed two thousand of the enemy, 
driving them from a strong position on a bridge, and pursuing them 
for ?ix miles. The entire force of Harney was but five hundred 
T\i> results of this victory were more important than is generally 
supposed, for it prevented in future any annoyance to j:he besiegers 
from the enemy's cavalry. In this action the Mexican lancers and 
American dragoons engaged hand to hand, when the superior 
strength and courage of the latter prevailed. In many instances, it 
is said, tbpf!rj?goons twisted the lances out of the hands of their 
enemies. Harney, in the melee, overthrew several of the foe in 
single combat. 

At the battle of Cerro Gordo, Harney in person, led the assault on 
the hill. This was one of the most brilliant affairs of the war. The 
ascent was naturally rugged and steep, and the ground was covered 
with loose rocks, and an undergrov/th of chapparal. In addition to 
these formidable natural obstacles, the tops of small trees had been 
cut off*, four or five feet from the giound, and turned down the hill, 
to impede the progress of the assailants. Amid these difficulties, 
and under a tremendous fire of grape and canister, the soldiers of 
Harney clambered up the ascent, encouraging each other with loud 
shouts. At last, arriving within musket range, the stormers returned 
the fire of the enemy, and rushing forward, cleared the breastworks, 
entered the fort, and beat down the foe. The Mexicans, after a 
severe struggle, fled in confusion. The captured guns were imme- 
diately turned on the fugitives, and the discharges continued until 
the enemv was out of range. Scott witnessed this heroic assault, and 



W. S. HARNEY. 



27/ 



immediately riding up to Harney, complimented him in the highest 
terms, notwithstanding that between them there had been, for some 
time, a coolness existing. Subsequently, in his official report of the 
battle, the Commander-in-chief warmly extolled Harney's behavior. 
In the preliminary battle of Contreras, Harney took no active 
part, being prevented by the roughness of the ground. He halted, 
however, within range of the enemy's shells, and remained in this 
position until night fell, when he returned to San Augustine. On the 
following day, at the head of three companies, he joined the Com- 




HARHST'S PTOSCIT of THB MEXICANS AT CHURUBUSOO. 



mander-in-chief in front of Churubusco. His little force was soon 
ordered away in various directions, until finally he found himself 
without a command. He now employed himself in rallying the 
M — z 



578 



W. S. HARNEY. 



fugitives. At last, perceiving that the enemy was in full retreat, ho 
collected what forces he could, consisting of parts of Ker's company 
of second dragoons, Kearney's company of first dragoons, and Rey- 
nolds' and Duperu's companies of the third dragoons, and, placing him- 
self at their head, dashed forward along the main causeway in pursuit. 
He chased the enemy until within a short distance of the city gates., 
when a recall was sounded. His subordinate. Captain Kearney, 
continued, however, to press forward. " The gallant Captain," says 
the Commander-in-chief, in the official despatch, " dashed up to the 
San Antonio gate, sabreing, in his way, all who resisted. Of the 
•seven officers of the squadron, Kearney lost his left arm ; McRey- 
nolds and Lieutenant Lorimer Graham were both severely wounded, 
and Lieutenant R. S. Riwell, who succeeded to the command of the 
escort, had two horses killed under him. Major F. D. Mills, of the 
fifteenth infantry, a volunteer in this charge, was killed at the gate." 

Harney is one of the most athletic men in the army. His tower- 
ing height, gigantic frame, and capacious chest, remind the specta- 
tor of the labulous Hercules. His countenance is pleasing, and full 
of animation. 

For his behaviour in the Mexican campaign, he received the brevet 
of a Major- General. 





GENERAL PIERCE ENTERING PUEBLA WITH EEINFORCKMENTS. 



FRANKLIN PIERCE. 




RIGADIER-GENERAL PIERCE is, 

we believe, a native of New Hampshire 
He was appointed to the army on the 
3rd of March, 1847, and, immediately- 
repairing to the scene of action, joined 
Scott at Puebla, in the succeeding August, 
at the head of a reinforcement of twen- 
ty-four hundred men. The Commander-in-chief had only awaited 
his arrival to advance on the capital, and, accordingly, on the suc- 
ceeding day, began his memorable march. In the distribution of the 
corps, preparatory to setting forward. Pierce was assigned the com- 
mand of the second brigade of Pillow's division. 

Pierce won his first laurels in a skirmish at the national bridge, 
during his advance from Vera Cruz to the interior. In this action 
he narrowly escaped being killed, a ball passing through his hat. 
H3 signally defeated the enemy on this occasion. He was one of 

279 



280 



FRANKLIN PIERCE. 



the first ill action, on the 1 9th of August, in the preUminary battle 
of Contreras. While engaged here, amid a shower of round shot 
and shells, in leading his brigade against the enemy, his horse stum- 
bled and fell, by which he received a severe sprain in the knee. 
Mounting another steed, however, he continued in the field until 
nearly midnight, the rain falling meantime in torrents. On the suc- 
ceeding day he persisted in accompanying his men into action, not- 
withstanding the increasing pain of his hurt, and, for awhile, pressed 
forward among the most heroic. He had been ordered by Scott to 
march his brigade across the open country, in cpncert with that of 
Shields, in order to seize a position between Churubusco and the 
capital, whereby to cut off the enemy's retreat. He had gained the 
required position, and was advancing at the head of his men to en- 
gage the enemy, when it became necessary for him to dismount in 
order to cross a ditch which his horse could not leap. In the enthu 
siasm of the moment he forgot his hurt, and leaping to his feet, hur- 
ried onward. Suddenly, turning upon his knee, he fainted and fell. 
The accident happened in the very line of the enemy's fire, by 
which it is miraculous that he was not killed. 

Pierce was subsequently one of the commissioners to adjust the 
terms of the armistice. He was not present at either Molino del 
Rey cr Chapultepec, being confined to his room by indisposition. 
Soon after the fall of the capital he resigned his commission and 
retired to private life. 

Pierce, during his short career, won the reputation of being a 
brave officer. His appearance is gentlemanly, and his manners 
simple, though urbane. He is a lawyer by profession. 





ROGER JONES. 




the Canada frontier. 

M — Z* 



HOUGH not actively engaged in the 
field, during the Mexican war, the 
Adjutant-General deserves a passing 
notice. His unremitting labors in 
his bureau, though without any im- 
mediate brilliant results, have con- 
duced in a very great degree to the 
efficiency, if not to the success of the 
army. 

Jones was born in Westmoreland 
county, Virginia, about the year 1790. 
He entered the marine corps as a 
Lieutenant in 1809, but in 1812, on 
the breaking out of war with Great 
Britain, was transferred to the artillery, 
with the rank of Captain. He imme- 
diately joined General Dearborn on 
His assiduous attention to duty soon obtained 

281 



282 



ROGER JONES. 



for him the staff appointment of Assistant-Adjutant-General. He 
was in the action at Fort George, and subsequently in that of Stony 
Creek. In this latter he received a bayonet wound, and was parti 
cularly conspicuous for his heroism. He was present at the capture 
of Fort Erie. At Chippewa he behaved in a manner to draw down 
the especial encomium of the Commander-in-chief, General Brown, 
and to obtain for him, from President Madison, the brevet of a Major. 
At Niagara he again won the commendation of Brown, as also in 
the succeeding September, at Fort Erie. For his bravery in the 
sortie here he received the brevet of Lieutenant-Co.onel. 

After the peace Jones remained in the service. In 1825 he was 
appointed Adjutant-General of the army of the United States, with 
the rank and emoluments af a Colonel of cavalry. In 1827 he was 
made a Major in the line. In 1829 he received the brevet of Colo- 
nel, to date from September 27th, 1824. In 1832 he was promoted 
to the brevet of a Brigadier-General, the rank he still holds. 

The duties of the Adjutant-General are exceedingly onerous and 
responsible, and the war with Mexico has quadrupled them. They 
have been discharged by General Jones, however, with unshaken 
zeal and ability. Perhaps no man has contributed so much to the 
perfect organization of the army. During a long interval of peace 
he contributed to maintain its character, and is, therefore, fairly en 
titled to a share of its renown. 




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